


Rise, Lord Kenobi

by LilyWanKenobi



Series: Rise, Lord Kenobi [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Kiyo Family, Lord Kenobi, Obi-Wan leaves the Jedi, Stewjon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:16:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyWanKenobi/pseuds/LilyWanKenobi
Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi. Jedi Master. General in the Republican army. Killer of the sith. Hero of the Naboo. The Negotiator. Ladies Man. Former Master of the Chosen One.Ben Kiyo. Eldest son of Lord Cael and Lady Adia Kiyo. Older sibling of Adira Kiyo. Heir to the throne of Stewjon.Two names. Two stories. We know one, but what about the other? AU, with Obitine (Obi-Wan/Satine) and family.





	1. Prologue

He does not hurry through the halls, as one might be expected to when they make such a discovery. No, he has never been one to succumb to such desires, as attractive as they might be. Unlike his apprentice, who always chafes at the ideals he has been brought to know, he falls into the quiet complacency with ease.

It’s also a good opportunity to think, and think he must when such a dilemma is set before him. It is not a dilemma, truly, but yet, a situation he has never expected to find himself in, and a particularly perplexing one at that. He’s grown used to the way his life is now, and to find such a discovery, such a possibility, it is unheard of in his life.

But things never go as one expects, does it?

How many times can he testify to that being the truth?

He is contemplative as he turns off of one of the main halls and into a smaller, less grand one that leads to the Master quarters. It is a familiar path, one that he takes often, and it gives him even more chance to immerse himself in his thoughts. This hall has fewer occupants than the last, all regarding him with respectful silence, a courtesy he returns them without thought.

In his hands is a datapad, powered off and inconspicuous, but it holds a wealth of information. Names, faces, people he has never known are connected to him. Hundreds, if not thousands of them, though only three he deems worth his notice. He will look at them again, once in the safety of his own room, and he will memorize every detail about them.

After all, they were family.

For some reason, he has never thought about his origins. He has always assumed he was another temple baby, raised from birth among his peers. Memories have been forgotten, of water and wind and grass, of pretty green eyes and a soft voice. He dreams of a woman, sometimes; a red headed nymph with a quiet passion for life and love. She is occasionally accompanied by another, a man, all laughs and warm encouragement. 

There is a girl, too, but he has never heard of her before. She is beautiful, a lady in her own way. There is no doubt that she is his sister--- one need only look at their eyes. She is all elegance and fire, a combination he cannot wait to see in action.

And see it he will.

He has no questions when the Council tells him he is given meditation leave, neither does he second guess the pull to go, to take advantage of the short reprieve in an ever more life occupying war.

He does not tarry long in his room, taking time only to pack the necessary things. He will not linger in the quarters, not wanting to pass his apprentice on his way out. The boy is too easily attached, and will not understand the sense of respectful distance one must keep. Though he never admits what happened on a rogue mission to Tatooine, it isn’t hard to tell that the woman is no more. He has felt the grief from the younger man, often coupling with anger and regret, and he avoids the topic.

His ship--- at least, the one given to him for the outing--- is already being prepared for him when he arrives in the main hangar. The padawans who have been assigned to the task are eager to take on such a responsibility. After all, he is one of the greatest Jedi of all time. He excels in all fields, a prodigy that was nearly passed over. To them, he is perfect, exercising such self control. It is rare, for any of them to be allowed to visit their families. A compliment, rarely bestowed upon any Master.

He waves away the words of praise and awe, for he doesn’t deserve them. There is nothing special about him, regardless of what the tabloids claim. He is no different from any of them, and he makes it his duty to tell them so.

They don’t believe him.

So, after a gentle remonstrance, he leaves them to their ignorance and boards the ship, grateful for the solitude. A tiny, unfamiliar coil of excitement unfurls in him as he navigates the busy Coruscant traffic, and it slowly grows as he inputs the unfamiliar coordinates into the navicomputer. By the time he is cleared for the jump to hyperspace, he is ready to face whatever is ahead of him. He is at a convergence of his life, where what is and what might have been will meet for the first time.

Perhaps, he will finally find where he belongs.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Family

_ “Last night marked the beginning of a bleak day for the tiny planet of Stewjon. Not eight hours ago, Lord Cael Kiyo was killed in a bombing, leaving the throne empty. His brother, Tor, has been made intermediary ruler until the royal family can get in contact with the heir, who has been away from home for the past two and a half decades. Will he return home after all this time to reclaim his rightful position as Lord of Stewjon, and guide his system through the war?” _

Obi-Wan Kenobi. Jedi Master. General in the Republican army. Killer of the sith. Hero of the Naboo. The Negotiator. Ladies Man. Former Master of the Chosen One.

Ben Kiyo. Eldest son of Lord Cael and Lady Adia Kiyo. Older sibling of Adira Kiyo. Heir to the throne of Stewjon.

Whichever he was, he remained plastered to his chair as his former padawan began yet another crash landing.

It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with the ship; oh no, it was a relatively new cruiser with engines in good repair. It was just that their last mission had been very diplomatic, with no fighting whatsoever, and he was looking for a way to blow off some steam.

Obi-Wan wasn't, though.

“Anakin, please slow down,” he hissed between clenched teeth.

His former apprentice laughed. “Oh, come on, Master. Live a little.”

“Death never looked so appealing,” Obi-Wan commented, a mix between mournful and dry sarcastic.

At the last second, just when Obi-Wan was sure they were going to crash onto the Temple landing pad, Anakin did something, and the ship gracefully set down on the duracrete. Feeling completely boneless, the Jedi Master nearly oozed off of his seat and out the ship. 

He sagged against the nearest pillar, waiting for the adrenaline rush to subside. “Blast, this is why I hate flying.”

Anakin shook his head. “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering…”

“Which is the path to the dark side, I know.” How many times had he said the same thing to the boy? “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” He grumbled irritably. Anakin was always rushing off after missions.

“Actually…”

“Ben!” A red haired woman flew across the hangar, wrapping herself around the Jedi Master and burrowing her face into his neck. 

A padawan followed her, panting. “Master, I tried to stop her…”

Obi-Wan gave the boy a smile, gently loosening the visitor’s arms from around him. “It’s fine, Ahmet. I’ll take care of her.” The padawan looked relieved, and he turned and hurried back into the temple.

Anakin raised an eyebrow at the woman clinging to Obi-Wan’s shirt. “Um, can we help you?”

Carefully, Obi-Wan untangled himself from the redhead’s embrace. “Anakin, this is Adira. Adira, my former padawan.”

The woman sniffled softly, shrinking into his arms. Her eyes, big and green, blinked owlishly at first the knight, then the master. “I’m sorry, I didn't know you were busy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And the youngling chasing you did nothing to raise your doubts?”

Her pale skin flushed, and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I know you told us not to come, but Mum said I had to get you.” A tear ran down the tip of her nose. “He’s gone, Ben.”

Obi-Wan froze. “What? When? How?”

“The night before last. It was at a council in the other rim… it was bombed.”

“Where’s Tor? Is he here?”

She shook her head. “No. He and Indi went to visit her family a week ago, and I have no way to get in touch with them.”

He hooked his finger under her chin, and kissed the tip of her nose. “You’re staying at the apartment, right?” She nodded. “I have a few things to finish here, but I’ll meet you there as soon as I finish, okay?”

Whimpering softly, she clenched his tunic tighter. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered.

Obi-Wan’s eyes lit on Anakin. “Do me a favor?”

The knight, who had been staring slack jawed at the tableau, eyed him. “I’m not debriefing to the council.”

“No, no. I want you to watch her for me, make sure she stays out of trouble.” He loosened his grip on her, steering her towards the younger man. “Don't worry, I won't be long.”

Anakin looked between them, his eyes questioning. “Master?”

But he was already leaving the hangar. “Adira, stay with him.”

The woman huffed, and Anakin sighed wistfully. He supposed Padmé would have to wait.

* * *

 

By the time Obi-Wan made it back to his quarters, it was past midnight. Yet, surprisingly, Anakin was still there, waiting for him. Absently, he wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that the Senator had returned back to Naboo for a few days.

“What took you so long?”

He sighed, sinking onto one of the couches. “She didn’t want to be left alone. I had to wait until she fell asleep.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed and he snorted derisively. “Yeah, I’m sure. Whatever happened to all your rules about no attachments, huh? Always ragging on me about Padmé when you’ve got your own little redhead on the side. Young, too. What is she, ten, fifteen years younger than you? Robbing the cradle, huh?”

He gaped at his former apprentice, not sure exactly where the outburst was coming from. “What the… Adira’s my sister!”

“Of course she… wait, what? You have a sister?”

“A sister and parents.” He hesitated. “Well, a mum, now.”

Anakin blinked. “Oh. That’s…” he shook his head. “Were you close?”

He closed his eyes, trying to remember his father from the last time he’d seen him. “He loved me,” he said simply. “I’ve only been permitted to see them since I have become a Master, so we didn't have much bonding time, with the war and all.”

“How did he...” he shifted, seeming uncomfortable. No surprise there.

“A bombing at one of the off-planet councils. I’d heard about it, but I didn’t know that he had been there.”

Anakin winced. “So it’s just you and your sister and mom now, huh?”

“I have an uncle, but he… he resented me for becoming a Jedi, I suppose.” He thought of Tor, angry and proud. “He never wanted my parents to send me away, and didn’t understand why I refused to come back when I found out. Though I might not have a choice now.”

His former padawan eyed him curiously as he got up and began to make a much needed cup of tea. “Why is that?”

“For years, my family has been one of the ruling families of Stewjon. A cousin of my father’s was actually supposed to receive the honor, but he and his family died several years ago in an accident on Chita.” He stared down at the counter. “My father was next in line, and now that he’s gone…”

“You’re next.”

The soft, dark robes he wore to the funeral were a stark contrast to his usual garments. His Jedi robes weren’t uncomfortable, far from it, but they lacked the softness of the fine wool Adira had insisted he wear.

The funeral was also unlike any he had ever attended.

Unlike the Jedi custom of cremation, the people of Stewjon had laid Lord Cael Kiyo’s body to rest on the moon Yan, the final resting place of most Stewjonians. During the night, the planet’s exotic fauna created a gas that utterly decimated any living or dead being, supposedly releasing their soul and making them one with the moon.

To Obi-Wan, it was simply a place you didn’t want to be on when the sun went down.

There were many silent tears shed when they laid him to rest, the people mourning the death of their ruler. He’d been loved by most, respected by all, and no one could have wished his death.

Someone touched his sleeve, and with startling clarity he realized he was the only one still standing there. He turned slightly to see Adira giving him a sad smile. “Ben, we have to go. The sun’s about to set.”

Impossible. The funeral had been held in the morning.

As if she could read his thoughts, she said softly, “you’ve been standing here all day.”

Had he? He didn’t remember it. 

Obi-Wan looked down at the still body of his father, soon to be dissolved to make food for the plants. His lifeless face held the serenity only found after suffering, something he had seen too many times.

“Ben, please…”

Slowly, he turned away, beginning the slow journey back to the ship. It wasn’t that he missed his father. No, the hollow feeling inside of him was something different entirely.

Guilt. Guilt that he didn’t feel sorrow over his death.

It wasn't his fault, he supposed. He hadn’t known him well enough to truly love him. He had simply been another person in his life, there and gone.

There was none of the raw pain he had felt when Qui-Gonn or even Cerasi had died. This, the numbness that had held him there long after the others had left, had to be guilt. People didn’t mourn with quiet looks and wistful memories. Mourning was a passionate and messy affair that often time encompassed guttural cries and gushing tears.

Mourning was feeling, and he felt nothing.

Just emptiness. Numbness.

That had to be guilt. Sorrow could never feel so… tranquil.

Could it? Force, he was really behind in the emotion department. What was the appropriate sentiment for a funeral?

Anakin stood by the ship, his eyes clouded with sympathy and what Obi-Wan recognized to be sorrow.

Blast it all. Even his apprentice, who had never met the man, could properly mourn his death.

He’d been wary at first about bringing Anakin. The boy had lately had a distinct aversion to funerals, and he had not been able to figure out why he was so particularly enthusiastic to attend this one.

The younger man placed a hand on his shoulder as he walked past. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then seemed to change his mind, instead settling on sending a wave of comfort through the force.

Obi-Wan smiled gently, continuing past him. Anakin had been wretched after his mother’s death, and no doubt he expected him to be the same. So let him think so. It did him no harm, after all, to believe that Obi-Wan felt something at Cael’s death.

The flight back to Stewjon was not long. Twenty minutes after they had left Yan, they were landing on the Kiyo’s private landing pad, behind the main house.

Kiyhof, with its airy, open rooms and stone and transparisteel exterior had always felt like home to Obi-Wan. Nature and the ability to access it always was an important part of every Stewjonian’s life, and he was no different. Here, peace and tranquility reigned.

The house was surrounded by immaculate gardens, and was only a few minutes away from the other Kiyo residences. There were well over four dozen residences around the outskirts of the city, occupied by family members of varying relativity. Cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews. Obi-Wan had yet to meet them all, though several had been at the funeral. According to Adira, they numbered well into the hundreds and were all very enthusiastic to meet the ‘lost son’, as he was so often called.

In the center was the city of Kiystad, a modern place with thriving enterprise and a bustling spaceport. It was also the largest center of commerce on Stewjon, and had thrived under Cael’s rule. 

But now that he was gone…

Obi-Wan sighed as he entered the house. He was only here long enough to transfer all authority to Tor. The decisions on any improvements were not his to make.

* * *

When he first opened his eyes, he didn’t know where he was. The curtains over the room wide window on one side slowly opened, and the walls glowed a sleepy grayish blue.

Slowly, the fog in his mind cleared. Stewjon. He was in his room at Kiyhof.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as he got out up. By the time he had showered, dressed, and completed his morning meditation, the sun had slipped over the horizon, lighting the sky to a powder blue.

A quick scan with the force revealed his mother, Anakin and Adira to be awake and downstairs, along with another person. Obi-Wan mentally groaned when he felt the already irate signature of his uncle, likely already picking a fight with someone.

He grumbled under his breath as he left the peaceful vicinity of his room and went downstairs.

Both his mother and sister were standing in the kitchen, identical frowns etched in their faces as they listened to what Tor was emphatically explaining. Relief filled his mother’s gray eyes when she saw Obi-Wan and she said teasingly, “so, he awakens.”

He ignored the glare Tor sent his way, kissing her cheek and taking a seat beside Anakin. “Good morning to you as well.”

“Ben, I want to talk to you.”

Adia slammed the pan she was holding onto the counter. “Tor. After breakfast.”

The older man raised his hands defensively. “Can’t I even speak to my own nephew?”

“Not about politics.”

Obi-Wan touched her shoulder gently. “Mum, I’m fine.”

Her eyes clouded as she slid a cup of Sapir tea towards him. “Here.”

“Thank you.” He smiled reassuringly before turning to face his uncle. “You needn’t worry about me. I plan to formally renounce my position this morning and am giving the place to you.”

Tor frowned, his eyebrows drawing together as he scowled. “You’re going back,” he spat.

“I have to. You know I can’t stay.”

“I know no such thing,” the man growled. “I know you choose not to stay. You think waving your fancy little laser sword is more important than taking care of your family?”

Obi-Wan sighed, looking down at his mug. “It’s my job. I have to do my duty.”

He scoffed. “You think doing your Republic’s dirty work is a job?” He taunted. “Your duty is to be here, to take care of your people. What’s going to happen to your family when you leave?”

“Tor…”

Anakin stood. “Someone’s coming.”

“I sense it, too.” Obi-Wan glanced at his sister. “Are we expecting company?”

She shook her head in bewilderment, drying off her hands as she went to look outside. “Oh, it’s the Duchess.”

Obi-Wan choked on his tea. “Duchess?” Surely not…

“Satine Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore. She’s a good friend of both mum and mine.” Adira raised an eyebrow. “I would advise you to steer clear of anything politics related. She’s a pacifist, and is very strict in her beliefs. And she doesn’t have a very fond outlook on Jedi.”

As if he didn’t know that already. She had made her feelings about his career very clear then, never wasting a moment to let him continue in his ignorance on the subject of violence and pacifism. Even an afternoon of dodging blaster bolts and missiles was the perfect opportunity to educate one on the uselessness of war, in her opinion.

He mentally chided himself on the uncharitable direction of his thoughts. It had been a decade and a half since that year on Mandalore. Likely she had seen more of the world, matured some…

“Lady Kiyo, Adira, I came as soon as I heard.”

...grown more beautiful.

From where he sat, he could just see as the Duchess Kryze embraced first his mother, then Adira warmly, looking very much the sorrowful friend. She was dressed in a navy dress that did nothing to hide the fact that she had changed very much from the skinny teenager he had left behind. Slender curves now replaced the more angular, awkward girl seventeen year old Satine had been, reminding him all too keenly that she was a woman now.

“I suppose I missed the funeral?”

Her voice had changed, he supposed. During that year, she had carried the perpetual hoarseness that came from a lingering cold. But now, her voice carried the distinct tone of an aristocrat, though the underlying vein of steely determination was still there.

“Yes, I’m sorry. We only delayed it long enough for Ben to get here, and he’ll likely be leaving before nightfall.”

“Ben? Your brother?”

“Yes, he’s here, though not for long. Come in, I’ll introduce him to you.”

He watched as curiosity, recognition, and surprise passed over the Duchess’s face as she turned to look his way. “Master Kenobi.”

He hid a smile as he bowed, holding her gaze. “Your Grace.”

Confusion drew Adira’s fine brows together. “You know each other?”

Satine looked away from him abruptly, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Who hasn’t heard of the fearless General Kenobi?” 

Adia laughed softly. “Satine, I want you to meet my son, Ben.”

Blonde brows raised. “Your son is General Kenobi?”

“Born Ben Kiyo, yes.”

“I see.” She folded her hands in front of her, pursing her lips. “You never told me you had family, Obi-Wan.”

His name on her lips brought back a wave of memories, most bad. She had persistently called him ‘Padawan Kenobi’, only using his name in dire situations, or in the very rare, more tender moments. It was the latter that he chose to recall at that moment with a smile.

“I don’t believe the topic ever came up.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Adira says you have no plans on staying.”

“The council gave me leave to come here, but it would be an impossibility to remain.”

“Why?” Tor asked angrily. “As Satine would likely agree, fighting is only helping to prolong this kriffing war! If it wasn’t for you and your clone army, perhaps we could finally have some peace!”

Anakin stood abruptly, stiffening at the insult. Obi-Wan gave him a warning look before calmly replying, “contrary to what you may think, I loath war as much as you do. But regardless of that fact, I will not let innocents die, Tor.”

The older man looked ready to retort, but Satine put her arm through his. “I’m sure Obi means no harm, Tor. He can’t help that he was raised the way he was.”

Irritation settled on Obi-Wan. “No need to defend me, Your Grace. My uncle knows exactly how I feel.”

Tor shook his head. “Unnatural boy. What man doesn't love his family?”

He swallowed. “My decisions have nothing to do with my family. I respect each and every one of you, and hope the best for Stewjon. Tor, I want you to have my position.”

“Ben…”

“We have to go. Our fleet’s likely already waiting for us at the rendezvous point... Anakin.” He nodded to the younger man. “Go on ahead. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Stuffing one last muffin in his mouth, Anakin leaned over the counter to kiss Adia’s cheek. “Thank you for breakfast, Lady Kiyo. It was good.” He bowed to the other three. “My Lady, Duchess, Sir.”

“Master Skywalker.” Satine's eyes flicked back to Obi-Wan. “I hope you haven’t hurried your departure on my part.”

“Not at all, your grace,” he replied honestly. “It was a pleasure to see you again.”

A soft smile crossed her face as she lowered her head slightly. “Until we meet again, then.”

He bowed. “Until we meet again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to get this up and give all my readers something to think about. But please, don't expect me to update this often, because school is just starting and it really takes a lot of energy. I will try to update at least once a month, but it may not even be that often.
> 
> On a happier note, I'm really excited to start this! I've already plotted out the basic outline of this story, and it's promising to be a great one. Any feedback is welcome (and it gives me initiative to update faster), so comment or kudo, let me know you're out there!


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Obi-Wan is faced with a dilemma.

For the second time in the space of a month, Obi-Wan and Anakin were hurtling towards Coruscant at a very uncomfortable speed. Only this time, it wasn’t by choice.

The Jedi Master couldn’t help but wonder what tragedy would befall them once they landed. The last time, it had been news that his mum had died. Since the funeral and subsequent argument with Tor, he had not been back to Stewjon, or talked to any of his family.

And he most certainly hadn’t spoken to Satine.

The ship shuddered again, and Anakin began to look nervous. “Uh, Master?”

“Yes?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a fire extinguisher on board, would you?”

A sinking feeling filled him, and he winced as the ship began to rattle, jarring his already bruised body. “No, I don’t. Why?

“We’re on fire.”

Could the day get any worse?

“Aw, shavit. Now we’ve lost the engines.”

Apparently, it could.

“You’d better unstrap yourself, Master. We’re going to have to make an emergency exit.” He began flipping switches. “Air security is already in position to pick us up, so we should do pretty well.”

Obi-Wan flinched as he gingerly unstrapped the rigging that held him to his seat. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who’s injured.”

“That’s because I wasn't the idiot who went waltzing straight into the trap.”

“It wouldn’t have been a trap if you hadn’t alerted the whole blasted squadron of my position.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Anakin protested. “How was I to know the vents were bugged?”

“Common sense, perhaps?” He swore as the ship jerked. “What was that?”

The sound of metal tearing met their ears, followed by a peculiar sucking noise directly behind them. 

Anakin closed his eyes. “Please tell me we’re not flying a cockpit.”

Obi-Wan remained silent.

A string of colorful curses fell from the younger Jedi’s lips. “Just hang on a few more feet, Master.”

“I don’t think I have a choice.”

* * *

 

Two hours later, Obi-Wan left the Halls of Healing, thankful that Master Che was skilled in her line of work. He had two more scars to add to his collection, but she assured him that any remaining pain and bruising would heal in a matter of days.

Anakin had left shortly after their debriefing to the council, so his quarters were blessedly empty. 

It wasn’t until after he had a quick shower and a trim that he got around to checking his messages. Their mission had not allowed him to keep in contact with the rest of the galaxy, so this would be his moment to catch up.

He first thing he saw was five messages from Tor, three dozen from his mother and Adira, and two from an unknown link from Mandalore.

Satine.

Skipping the messages from his family, he set Satine’s to play.

“Master Kenobi, I apologize for intruding on your time. However, I have some information that you may wish to hear from me first. Please contact me at your nearest convenience.”

The second one was dated to have been the night before, and simply said, “Obi, comm me as soon as you get in. I need to speak with you, urgently.”

Before the recording had finished, he was already re entering the link. A few seconds later, she answered, her face breaking into a smile of relief.

“You got my message. Good.”

“A mission. We didn't have any means of contact.”

She nodded. “I expected as much. You just arrived back today?”

“A few hours ago, yes.” He watched her facial expressions carefully, finding nothing out of the ordinary to hint at panic or fear. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your uncle, Tor. He’s announced that he’s contemplating joining the Separatist movement, and Palpatine is planning to send military intervention to depose the Kiyo family so the Republic may bring in new leadership.”

“And he’s refused to reconsider?”

“Yes.” He swore. “The senate is going to vote tonight, but I fear their decision has already been made.”

“Have they said what actions are likely to be taken?”

Her eyes narrowed. “They want to send in military. What do you think they plan to do?”

Obi-Wan sucked in a breath, sitting back. “They won’t kill them, surely.”

“They cannot have any legitimate heirs who might usurp new authority.” she sighed. “And if the Separatists decide to defend their newest asset…”

“This could be war.”

“Yes.” She exhaled slowly, sympathy filling her eyes. “Perhaps you could reason with him, Obi. You’re his nephew, he might listen to you.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Satine, you know he won’t.”

“You can’t let this happen. These are your people.”

“Don't,” he cut her off. “You know why I can’t do that.”

She raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do I, Master Jedi? Your people are being threatened with war if you don’t step in and intervene, and you will refuse them?”

“It’s not that simple. As a Jedi, I have no authority.”

“So you leave.”

He clenched his teeth. “I never wanted this. You know that.”

“Is that what this is about, Obi-Wan?” She challenged. “What you want? Whatever happened to your sense of duty?”

“My duty lies with the Jedi.”

Disappointment shone in her eyes, but she straightened. “Then I hope you’ll be the one they choose to lead the charge.”

* * *

 

“Master? I didn't know we had a mission.”

“We don’t.” Obi-Wan looked around his room once more. “I have to go.”

Anakin’s shoulders dropped. “So you’re going, then.”

“What?”

The younger man sat down on the bed, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Padmé told me about Stewjon. I guess I won’t be seeing you again, huh?”

“It’s only temporary, until I can find someone to take my place,” Obi-Wan explained. “You can come visit me, when you have leave.”

“Right.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, you know I don’t want to do this.” 

“I know.” He fiddled with his sleeve. “Is it selfish to not want you to go?”

“No more selfish than I not wanting to go.” Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair. “A word of advice, my apprentice. Never get involved with a woman. She will ruin you and become the cause of all your despair.”

Anakin blinked. “I don't understand.”

“Never mind that. Just heed my advice.”

“Um… Master? Before you leave…”

“Yes?”

The young man looked positively miserable. “There’s something I need to tell you, Master.”

Obi-Wan’s comm beeped, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, but can it wait? They’re waiting for me.”

He gave a weak smile. “Yeah, sure. I suppose I’ll see you later, huh?”

“Of course.” Picking up his bag, he offered the younger Jedi a smile. “I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I’m proud of you. You have the potential to be ten times the Jedi I ever was, and I hope that you take it.”

“Master…”

“Anakin, it’s unlikely that I’ll ever have the opportunity to offer you sincere praise in the future, so take it while you can,” he said sternly. “Now, stay out of trouble. I don’t want to have to come back and rescue you.”

Anakin cracked a weak smile. “Same for you. I’d hate to have to get you out of trouble for the eighteenth time.”

“Seventeenth. That time on Cato Neimodia doesn’t… it doesn’t count.”

* * *

 

He knelt before the whole of Stewjon, head bowed to the fifteen ruling families. Each family--- or clan, as they were called--- had a Lord present. According to what he had learned from the endless files on Stewjonian history, there were several Lords to a clan, each an eldest son. It was their responsibility to run the government. And he was over them all.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother and Adira from their seats. His sister gave him  a small smile of encouragement before turning her eyes back to Tor, who was droning on from the podium. His mother, however, had her eyes fixed on her lap, her shoulders rounded.

Why should she be sad? She’d gotten what she’d wanted. Her son was back, he was going to fix everything, she would have her perfect life back again. So why wasn’t she happy?

“Ben Kiyo.”

He turned his attention back to Tor, who had finally finished his speech and was now glaring down at him sharply. “Do you understand what is asked of you?”

“To rule, protect, and sustain Stewjon.”

“And what will be the judge of your ability?”

“My ability to rule, protect, and sustain Kiystad and its surrounding dwellings.” Adira had explained that to him in detail. A Lord could be removed, but only if he showed his inability to manage his own estate. 

“And if you fail in that capacity?”

Oh, yes, Tor had made it his duty to make sure he memorized that particular answer. “I will have forfeited my place.”

“And what is your resolve?”

“ _ Cha dèan mi às. _ ” It was the promise every ruler made to their people.  _ I will not fail _ .

“Then, by the powers of the fifteen clans, rise Ben Kiyo, Lord of Stewjon.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, classes have been cancelled due to the weather this week, which is probably the only reason why I was able to put the finishing touches on this so fast, even though I should be studying for midterms.
> 
> Thank you, everyone who has left comments and reviews. This story is being cross-published on both Ao3 and ff dot net, and it’s really awesome to have such great reception on both sites. However, it’s a bit harder to compile and answer my comments/reviews, so I hope you aren’t missed, and if you are, forgive me.
> 
> YellowWandSaber: Thank you so much! Btw, I love your fanart!
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150: I’m inclined to think he agrees with you, and thank you!
> 
> AtlanticSamm: Thank you so much, I hope you liked it.
> 
> anesor: Yes, he does, thank you!
> 
> Thank you to all the new subscribers/followers, you guys are great! Don’t forget that your feedback helps to inspire me, and it’s always welcome.
> 
> Something new that I’m going to try is a trivia question at the end of each chapter. The person(s) who answers correctly will get a shoutout and a spoiler of their choice.
> 
> Trivia: How old is Obi-Wan’s younger sister, Adira Kiyo?


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan's first days in office.

Obi-Wan ran a hand through his hair, groaning mentally when his muscles protested against the motion.

Who knew sitting in a chair for hours on end could be so exhausting? In only a couple weeks, he had gained an infinite respect for all the politicians he had once looked upon with disdain.

He looked up when Adira knocked on the door, a steaming mug in her hands. Her eyes were soft, and a touch of worry shone in the the gray depths. “Ben?”

With a sigh, he motioned for her to take the seat across from him. “You have something to tell me, I presume?”

She ignored his motion, continuing to stand. “You’re working too hard, Ben. You need to relax,” she chided him gently, taking a sip of her tea. When he frowned, she raised an eyebrow. “What, you didn’t think I brought this for you, did you?”

“Why else would you have brought it?”

“For me, maybe?” Pushing a stack of datapads to the side, she perched on the edge of his desk. “If you wanted some, you could always come up to the house and get a cup instead of expecting me to bring them to you all the time. Mum wants to see you.”

Obi-Wan sighed deeply. “Adira, you know I have work to do here. Once that is finished, I’ll be able to visit more often.” Hopefully, by that time, he would be back on Coruscant.

Her eyes lit, and she beamed at him. “That’s exactly why I brought help.”

Asking what she meant would have been pointless, for just then a familiar figure stepped into the doorway.

“Duchess.” He swore when his shin bumped into the desk as he hastily stood. “I was not expecting you.”

Satine raised an eyebrow, ocean blue eyes taking in the office absently. “This trip was not planned, so you are not in the wrong. Though I must say I’m surprised. Your organizational skills seem to have diminished sorely over these past years.”

He felt his face grow warm as he realized the untidiness of the room. Since he had come back, he’d been working, eating, and sleeping out of his office, and the room showed it. “I apologize for the mess, Your Grace, but business has kept me much occupied over the past few weeks.” The excuse sounded feeble to his own ears, but it was the closest thing to the truth that he dared admit. “And what brings Your Grace all the way here?”

She tsked, running her fingers over one of the bookshelves before flicking off the dust that clung to their tips. “So formal, Obi-Wan,” she murmured softly, “Enough to make one think you didn’t want them here.”

Adira cleared her throat, backing through the door quickly. “I have business to attend to now, but mum said to tell you that you’re both invited to dinner at Kiyhof.”

“We’ll be there,” Satine promised, never once drawing her eyes away from his. 

The moment Adira left the room, Obi-Wan sank back into his seat, motioning for her to take the one opposite.

She didn’t, instead rounding the desk and resting her hands on his shoulders. Before he could question the action, she began massaging his shoulders, her slender fingers expertly working the knots out of his muscles.

“You’re stressed,” Satine observed quietly, “I can feel how tense you are.”

He exhaled deeply, deciding for once to not question her actions. “Politics are stressful.”

The soft laugh she released was as soothing as the hands kneading into his shoulders. “You forget that I’ve spent my whole life in politics. It’s never easy.”

“But does it have to be so blasted hard?” He grimaced at the too high piles of flimsi’s and datapads piled on his desk. “It’s little wonder you’re so sour all the time. You have all of this to deal with.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am not sour!”

He winced as she gripped the nape of his neck. “Satine, please. I’m sure you didn’t come all the way here for this?”

She released him, smacking him on the back of his head for good measure. “Your mother said you were having difficulty adjusting. That, I can believe is true.”

“I don’t want to be here,” he replied honestly, “I don’t want to adjust. Selfish, I know, but true.”

“Come.” She stepped away from him. “Let us walk.”

“But…”

“Your paperwork will still be there when you get back,” she stated, “As it is, being stuck in here for an extended period is sure to be counterproductive. Why isn’t your secretary helping you?”

“I fired him.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, exasperation written across her face. “Why?”

He scowled, following her out of the office and into the halls of the Administration Building. “The man was an imbecile. Never did any work himself but always had plenty of opinions on what I should do.”

“So you hire someone else. Preferably a younger woman with a degree.”

He paused for a moment, trying to comprehend what she was saying. “Why must it be a young woman?” he asked, curious.

Her eyes sparkled as she wrapped her arm through his. “You’re a handsome man, Obi-Wan Kenobi. A woman would be eager to please you, and would do good work. And a young one will be easier to train.” They stepped into the lift, and she smiled. “I used the same strategy, though in my case a man was necessary. With a little training, Tahn has become an excellent assistant.”

“I’m sure,” he said drily, pressing the button for the ground floor. “So I’ll hire a new secretary. What else?”

“I would suggest that you shave, but since I doubt you would be receptive to that, a neat trim would do you well. People are less likely to respect you if you look unprofessional.” She absently stepped closer, picking a piece of lint off of his shoulder. “You’re a diplomat, Obi, you always have been. Even though you may not have a lightsaber in your hand, you have a far more powerful weapon. Use it.”

Before he could let her nearness affect him, the door to the lift opened, and he followed her into the sun filled lobby. “While I’m at it, shall I buy a new ship to show our prosperity? Adopt sixteen children to show my benevolence?” he asked sarcastically.

She raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips. “I think the ship might be a bit extravagant, and sixteen children…” she looked contemplative. “Sixteen is a bit excessive, but one or two could do no harm.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m not adopting children, Satine.”

“You’ll have to, eventually. The sooner the better in my opinion.”

“Why?”

Her cheeks pinked, but she looked him directly in the eye. “Unless you find a willing female to carry an heir for you, adoption is the only reasonable way to go.”

That brought him up short. “Oh. Yes, I can see that.”

They stepped out of the Administrative Building and onto the street. Here, in the heart of Kiystad, business thrived. Elegant, towering buildings comprised the core of the city, housing the successful businesses that employed most of the city’s residents.

“Your people are watching you,” Satine commented softly.

And they were. All along the streets, the people were pausing to watch them pass; men nodding in respect while the women smiled warmly. Ill at ease with the attention, he stiffened slightly.

Satine seemed to sense his unease, and she tucked her arm into his. “Relax. They simply want to see their new ruler.”

“Don’t they have work to do?”

She shot him a look of reproof. “You should be happy that the transfer of authority has gone over so easily. I was met with bombs and shootings for my first days in office.”

“But you wanted to. You were trained your entire life for it,” he retorted, quickly growing irritated with the way everyone seemed to think he should be grateful to rule. “What would you feel like if someone told you that you are not the Manda’lor, but simply a daughter of one of the Death Watch commanders?”

She stopped, glaring at him. “That’s different, and you know it.”

“How? Because I want to be here? Because I never wanted to be a Jedi? Because I don’t care that the only family I have ever known is out there dying, while I’m snug away in my office?”

Her gaze instantly hardened to blue steel. “Then maybe you shouldn’t be here.”

“It has never been my plan to be.” He folded his hands behind his back. “I have already begun research to find a way to allow Adira to rule. The Jedi Council allowed me a two month meditation leave, and I intend to return at the end.”

“You don’t intend to stay.” There was a hint of surprise in the statement, accompanied by a sliver of sadness.

“No.” They were out of the heart now, entering into the smaller, more rustic areas where the restaurants and stores were at. Going to the door of one of the former, he opened the door for her. “My intentions have always been to finish my business here and return to Coruscant as soon as possible. My mother has refused, and Adira doesn’t want the position either, but will take it for the good of the people.”

She smiled, but there was contempt for him in her eyes. “I admire her, then. At least one of you is willing to do what is right.”

“I am doing what is right.” Somehow, with her, he felt the need to justify the actions he had felt so confident about before. “I am giving the throne to someone more qualified than I.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she remained silent as the maitre d’ of the restaurant stepped forward, smiling. “My Lord, a pleasure having you with us today. Will you be enjoying your usual fare?”

“Thank you, yes. The Duchess will be joining me this afternoon.” He was careful not to let any of his previous irritation seep into his voice, knowing it would do little good.

“As you wish, my Lord. Will there be anything else?”

Obi-Wan turned to Satine questioningly, but she shook her head. “That will be all, thank you.”

“Very well, my Lord.”

She raised an eyebrow as the man hurried away. “Nice place.”

“Adira tells me they are the best in Kiystad.” He exhaled slowly, relieved that she had chosen not to linger on their previous subject. “It is not hard to believe; their food is excellent.”

“Do you dine here often?”

He slanted her a glance, sensing that there was more to the question. “I’ve been about half a dozen times.”

“Adira says you haven’t been to Kiyhof since your arrival.”

So that was it. “I have not had the time.”

He felt a spike of irritation through the force. “Nor the inclination, I assume.”

“My family is welcome to visit me whenever they wish.”

For a brief moment, something akin to sadness flashed through her eyes. Suddenly subdued, she took her seat at their table. “Tomorrow, I’ll help you organize your office and find a secretary. For now, though, we shall enjoy our meal.”

Obi-Wan relaxed slightly, thankful that she hadn’t pursued the subject any further. “How are things on Mandalore?”

A small, tense smile touched her lips, and she leaned back in her chair. “Peaceful, for now. There has been a few terrorist attacks, but my people are working hard in putting them to rest. As usual, the Republic is blaming the Separatists and want us to join the war.”

“I don’t think their Duchess would stand for that.”

She laughed softly. “You’re certainly right about that. Some have considered me a coward, but I cannot see putting my people through unnecessary suffering. Mandalore has just come out of a war; I will not let us be dragged into another.”

“At the risk of sounding like a treasonist, I don’t fault you for that.” He nodded to the waiter who had brought their drinks. “If it was my place, I would have Stewjon be neutral as well. Our people are peaceful, and have no wish to be drawn into a war that has no end in sight.”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi? A pacifist? I never thought I’d see the day,” she teased gently, swirling the ruby wine around in the glass. “And here I was thinking you to be totally hopeless.”

He smiled. “Not a pacifist, though Force knows war will make you one. It has the ability to make one long for peace.”

“Have you ever wished you could get out of it?”

“Ironically, yes.” He took a sip of his own glass, contemplating it for a moment. “Contrary to what you may think, I do not miss it. The peacefulness is likely the part I enjoy most of being here. It reminds me of… before.”

Her eyes flickered, the blue orbs clouding. “But you would still go back.”

He hesitated, setting down his glass. “The Jedi have been my family for the past thirty years. You cannot fault me for feeling guilty that I am not there with them. You yourself said the same thing when we were fleeing from insurgents.”

“I was a coward,” she said simply. “Not willing to do what I believed was right.”

“Having a sense of self preservation is not cowardice, Satine.”

“Says the man who has none.” Her eyes softened somewhat. “I worried for you, Obi-Wan. Above ten years of hearing next to nothing about you, then hearing that you were to be a General in the largest war of a millennia.”

“I assure you, it was never in my plans.” He exhaled slowly, allowing the new, more detached conversation give him a moment of reflection. “It has already been a year since the battle of Geonosis, and though that may be a relatively short time for a war, it feels like eternity.”

He sensed remorse from her, and he knew that she was thinking back to the year that he had spent on Mandalore, helping her end a war of her own. “The Republic will miss you. Although I cannot agree with the war, I must admit that I was impressed by your skills. The Negotiator, they called you.”

How he hated the moniker. “I am simply doing my duty. Jedi are peacekeepers, not war machines. Though the Republic may argue otherwise, we were never soldiers, and the part is one I have never enjoyed playing.”

Her smile faltered as her eyes went to a spot over his shoulder. “Don’t look now, but your uncle is here.”

Tor. Obi-Wan stiffened, already dreading the meeting that was sure to take place. “Yet another reason why I don’t like to leave my office. He seems to appear wherever I go.”

“He’s coming this way.”

“I know.” Draining his glass of wine, he pushed back his chair and stood. “You ready?”

She blinked up at him, her eyes questioning. “We haven’t even eaten yet.”

“They’ll know to deliver it to my office.” Gently, he tugged her chair back from the table, drawing a slight scowl that quickly morphed into a smile as she stood.

“Ben?”

Ah, no wonder. “Tor.” Keeping his eyes focused on the Duchess, he tucked her arm through his. “What a surprise to meet you here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a moment, but here we are again. I hope that you guys enjoyed the next installment of Obi as a ruler, and maybe have a bit more insight on his whole perspective about the situation. He’s not very happy about it, is he?
> 
> Thank you to all my new kudos and favorites! The favorable response that this story has gotten is very inspiring!
> 
> Now, for all of the new reviews and comments:
> 
> tacker23: Thank you so much! We’ve really found his weakness, haven’t we?
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150: Yes, it’s apparent Obi-Wan has no wish to be separated from his fellow Jedi. But don’t worry, Anakin will have a pretty big role to play in the future.
> 
> Guest: Thank you!
> 
> AtlanticSamm: I’m glad you’re enjoying it!
> 
> Imekh Melaff: Stupid comms, always cutting off the best and most insightful conversations, though this one will continue at a later date. Yes, Scots Gaelic is Stewjon’s native language, and it will be making an appearance relatively often. Here’s your update, and as you may see, Obi-Wan is not adjusting very well. Don’t worry, though, for he will not be able to shirk his duty in this case.
> 
> Trivia: Does anyone remember what Obi-Wan’s father’s name is? Guess correctly and receive a shoutout + an exclusive question for the author!


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stewjonian (Scots Gaelic) Glossary:
> 
> a bheil thu deseil?: Are you finished?
> 
> Cha mhòr: Almost.

 

It was interesting watching him work.

For the hundredth time, Satine looked up from the datapad she was perusing to watch him. His ginger hair was ruffled from the excessive amount of times he’d run his hand through it, and he had a stylus behind one ear, one between his teeth, and a third absently twirling between his fingers. Seeing him like this, so absorbed in his work, reminded her of the times she had seen him studying during that year on Mandalore.

Forcing herself to turn her attention back to the datapad she was working on, Satine continued her perusal of the bill. Obi-Wan hadn’t been kidding when he said there was a lot of paperwork to catch up on; it seemed that Tor had done little to nothing during his time in office, and what he had done only set them farther back. 

She paused, realizing what she had just thought.  _ Them. _ There was no them, just him. She had volunteered her services for the evening, but it wasn’t a permanent arrangement, and she’d known that when she’d first come to Stewjon. Before she’d known that he had no intentions to stay, she’d told herself not to expect anything. 

Long ago, Satine had realized being a Jedi wasn’t just a job, but a way of life, moreso to Obi-Wan than anyone else. There was no way the two could be separated, and she had promised herself to never try. Being here now was risky, and if it had been up to her, she wouldn’t have done it.

But it wasn’t.

The first time she had met Adira Kiyo had been almost fifteen years ago when she’d been attending school on Coruscant. Adira had been in several of her classes, and they’d started a tentative friendship after a brief round of animosity. But their friendship had been short-lived, for Satine had been called back to Mandalore upon the death of her father.

It hadn’t been until two years later that they had reconnected, and Satine had finally gotten the chance to meet Adia and Cael. Almost from the beginning, she’d loved Adia as if she had been her own mother. Something about the calm, gentle nature of the woman had drawn Satine, who had still been struggling with her newfound responsibility as Duchess. She’d seemed familiar--probably because she’d reminded her of Obi-Wan--and there was precious little that seemed familiar to her anymore.

Adira had long told her that she had a brother, though he had been gone from home since before she was born. It had been a big secret between the two of them, for Adira wasn’t supposed to know that he existed, and had only found out when she’d overheard her parents one night. Satine had been curious about the older Kiyo, completely unaware that she already knew him.

To say she had been surprised when she’d seen Obi-Wan that day would have been an understatement. And to realize that meant he was supposed to follow his father into the position of Lord of Stewjon had shaken her to her core. Frankly, she hadn’t been surprised that he was giving up the position. After all, he was a Jedi. 

She’d stayed on Stewjon for a week after the funeral, comforting her friends as best she could. Though nearly impossible, she’d tried her best not to think about the fact that this was  _ his _ family, and yet she felt as if it made a measurable impact on the way she viewed them.

There had been no thought in her mind of ever seeing or speaking to him again, but alas, fate had other plans. Only a few weeks later, during one of their weekly comms, Adira had told her of Tor’s plans and how Obi-Wan wasn’t answering their calls. Originally, she’d had no plan to intercede, but when Padmé had told her what Palpatine was planning, she’d decided that she would, if nothing else, make sure he was aware of the situation.

She hadn’t even thought about asking him to leave before that night. Her plan had simply been to convince him to speak to the other clans and have them override Tor’s decision. But he’d never let her get that far.

When he assumed that she wanted him to leave the order, she’d momentarily saw the world the way he did. A world of black and white, two extremes, completely separated and unable to be mixed. There were no shades of gray, no places for leeway where he was concerned, but two paths stretching infinitely in opposite directions.

For him, there was no both. His life either belonged to the Jedi, or it didn’t.

She’d seen the conflict in his eyes, the longing to help his family without breaking the precious Jedi ideals he lived by, the guilt for even considering leaving. 

Satine hadn’t been afraid that she would push him to do something he didn’t want. She’d simply voiced his thoughts aloud. Long ago, she had learned there was no way for her or anyone else to convince Obi-Wan to do anything he didn’t want to.

It had come as a surprise to her, then, when Adira told her how badly he was adjusting.

She wouldn’t lie and say that the original reason for her visit wasn’t to assuage the lingering guilt that she felt for asking him, because it had been. But now that she’d been here for a while, that mission had changed.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize that he was avoiding his family, and she now knew why.

He was afraid. Afraid to become too comfortable in a world that, one day, would have to come to an end.

She’d seen it in his eyes earlier. He’d been despairing over his former apprentice and his utter disregard of the consequences of attachments. There had been fear then, as well, but it had been for Skywalker. It had been a fear that was born of experience, of past tragedies.

It wasn’t new, this fear. She remembered Qui-Gon criticizing him on it, even then.

_ Be mindful of the future, but not at the expense of the moment _ .

Who would have thought that Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master, would struggle with something so small and, seemingly, insignificant?

She glanced up to peek at him again, only to find him watching her with a contemplative look. Satine felt face warm, embarrassed to have been caught looking. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows, completely unabashed. “Your secretary--Tahn, was it?--must be very good. Unless one datapad a half hour is considered a good speed.”

One glance at his desk told her that he’d already finished six. “Did you even read any of them?”

“The second and fourth are no good, one, five, and six are simply in need of amending, and three is perfectly fine.” He stretched. “Come, Satine, it doesn’t take that long to review statutes and laws.”

She had been taking her time, but six? There was no way he could properly file away that much information in the time the thirty minutes they’d been working. “Perhaps I should review them. Make sure there are no errors or loopholes.”

There was a slight flash of amusement in his eyes. “Just so you know, I taught political science for three years. It was my best subject as a padawan.” A flick of his fingers, and the datapads levitated off of his desk and onto the table beside her. “But, as you wish. Just please, try to finish before dinner.”

* * *

 

He was walking in dangerous territory.

Obi-Wan stood perfectly still as the seamstress took his measurements. He’d put off the appointment as long as he could, not wanting to pursue something that wasn’t permanent, but Satine had forced him to acknowledge that having a single set of robes was impractical.

She was forcing him to admit a lot of things.

He could see her out of the corner of his eye, talking with the head tailor, blonde head bent beside his auburn as they looked through a book of patterns. Her soft laugh floating through the shop made him tense, burning with curiosity to know what the man could have said to coax such a sound from her.

There was no way to deny that he was jealous, even if the emotion was completely out of place. It wasn’t as if he had a right to be so, having forfeited it when he chose the Jedi over her. But still, the fact remained that he envied the man, who seemed perfectly at ease with her. Of course, being the official tailor to the Kiyo household, being around royalty wasn’t anything new to him.

“And we’re done.” The seamstress, a pretty brunette with freckles and serious green eyes, marked down her last measurement. “Konnor,  _ a bheil thu deseil _ ?”

“ _ Cha mhòr. _ ” He pulled a stylus from behind his ear. “The Duchess has a suggestion for your wardrobe, my Lord, if you’ll come look at it.”

Of course she did. The Duchess was always full of helpful suggestions. “Tell her Grace that the wardrobe of Lords has remained unchanged for eight decades and will remain so now.” Calling his tunic from its temporary resting place, he inspected the dark material. “Though if you want to lighten the color a shade, I might be brought to consider it.”

Satine’s eyebrows raised, blue eyes going to the garment in his hand for a split second before going back to the tailor. “I actually think navy is a good color for him, don’t you think, Konnor?” Her fingers, slender and pale, toyed absently with a skein of fine wool yarn. “Don’t worry, love, I haven’t made any radical changes. Just made it a little less… pretentious, if you will.”

He frowned. “I’m Lord of Stewjon. Doesn’t such a position require pretension?”

“As a Duchess and regent, I can assure you it is not necessary. Now come and look. Your family is expecting us for dinner, and we wouldn’t want to be late.”

Sighing deeply, he acquiesced. He had to admit, the sketches Konnor had created were not bad, though they still were not his Jedi robes. The tailor had managed to capture the essential design on the current robes, though it had been simplified to a degree. The ostentatious filigree and jewel work were gone, replaced by more tasteful, utilitarian style lines.

“Her Grace pointed out that you might prefer something a little less monarch-ish and more militaristic, seeing as you served in the armed forces.” The tailor watched him closely as he examined the images, and Obi-Wan knew he was trying to get a feel for his opinion. “As you can see, we’ve also added a utility belt and tapered the legs so you could wear it with boots.”

The boots were a definite upgrade. Having never worn them, Obi-Wan detested dress shoes, and had detested the pair given to wear with his current uniform. “I see no issue with any of the proposed changes. How long will they take to be made?”

“That all depends on how many sets you want.”

Satine replied before he could open his mouth. “Three in the navy for everyday wear, one in black for special occasions, and one in the gray you showed me. That will be, what, five?” She glanced at him for confirmation, and he shrugged. “Is it at all possible that you can have a set ready this evening? We’re having dinner at Kiyhof tonight, and I’m sure Lady Kiyo and Adira would like to see him in his new robes.”

Konnor flashed her a dazzling smile, bowing low. “Of course, your Grace. Shall I have Ciarda bring them to the Administration Building? Or will you be returning to pick it up yourself?”

“We have a few more errands to complete, so we shall return. Say--an hour and a half, perhaps?”

Impossible. No one could complete a full set of robes in only--

“Excellent. It will be ready.” 

Either the man was bluffing or Obi-Wan knew nothing about what went into making clothes.

Likely the latter.

Satine tucked her arm through his, keeping stride with him as they left the shop. “So, we can check tailor off the list of places to go. Where are we off to next?”

“The office?” he asked, trying and failing majestically to keep the hope out of his voice.

She frowned at him, disapproval clear in her eyes. “You can’t bury yourself in work, Obi-Wan. As a ruler, however temporary the position may be, socializing is an important aspect of your life. Not only does it strengthen your relationship with those around you, but it also increases your knowledge of your position. The more you know about the people you rule, the better you can rule them.”

“I fail to see how attending to my wardrobe is helping me rule,” he remarked drily. “Just think, Satine, of how many people could live off of the money I spent on clothes that I don’t even need, that I’ll likely never wear.”

A small smile tipped her lips as she stopped and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m going to humor you on this one. Let’s say you spent a thousand credits in that store just now. Two weeks wages, I daresay. With the way food prices are now, you could have donated it to the local food bank and fed a family of four for the next month.”

“A much better cause, I daresay.”

“Really? Because right now, you just fed a family of four for a week, a family of eight for the next two, and a family of twenty for a whole month.” She raised an eyebrow. “When you buy goods, you are basically buying food for Konnor’s ailing mother and his two daughters. When he uses your coin to buy food from the grocer, the profit then feeds his family. And the grocer likely buys the food he sells from a farmer in the countryside, who uses that to buy more seed and machinery to support  _ his _ family. So you see, my dear, people are living off of your money, even if you don’t immediately see it.”

He stared at her for a full minute or two, her words slowly sinking into his mind. “I… I never thought of it that way.” 

Satine shrugged. “Not many do. They think that the rulers are only taking, not realizing that they rely upon them for their livelihood. Trade is a delicate framework that has supported society for several millennia. Without it, even the most powerful systems will crumble.”

“May I point out that I nearly failed economics class?”

She laughed at that, twining her arm through his again. “I never took it. In fact, my schooling mainly comprised of studying ancient Mandalorian warlords and later, totalitarianism with a very small concentration on diplomacy. Needless to say, I was completely unprepared when I ascended the throne.”

Obi-Wan glanced at her, surprised at the confession. “I would never have guessed. You always seemed so… how would you say it… confident?”

“I believed the only way to rule was by complete dictatorship. I couldn’t be anything less than confident.” She exhaled sharply, eyes clouding. “Both you and Qui-Gon played a large part in changing my views. Neither of you were unwilling to stand up to me, and it showed me that I was not the unstoppable force that I had been told. It made me realize I couldn’t force my ideals and beliefs upon my people.”

He scoffed. “As if your people would have even considered letting you force them to do anything. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty certain that they were trying to kill you before you even voiced your opinion.”

She shot him a mock glare, belied by the curling up of the corners of her lips. “Can’t you take a compliment when it’s offered?”

“Not if I don’t know it’s a compliment.” He liked this entirely too much, the casual banter unharnessed by the tension of war. “Boots.”

“Hmm?” She frowned in confusion. “Boots what?”

“You asked me where we were to go next. I’m going to need a pair of boots, unless you and Konnor already had those commissioned as well.”

“No.” Her eyebrows rose. “Is that jealousy I detect in your tone, Master Jedi?”

Blast it. She was more attentive than he’d given her credit. Thankfully, he caught sight of his sister coming their way. “Oh, look, there’s Adira. I wonder what she’s up to.”

Satine hummed lowly, letting him know she didn’t buy it.

“Satine, there you are. I was just looking for you at the administration building.” Adira completely ignored him, going to hug her friend. “Mum sent me to make sure my brother wasn’t working you too hard.”

“Not at all. We’ve just been catching up on a bit of shopping.”

Adira’s eyes bugged a little, turning to him quizzically. “You are talking about my brother, right? The one that detests any sort of self-indulgence?”

He tsked. “Contrary to what you may believe, I’m saving the system. If I don’t waste my coin on some useless object from time to time the economy will crumble.”

Satine smothered a laugh while his sister regarded them with confusion. “Right… Anyway, Tor and Indi said they might come for dinner, and Lady Mor and her brother are visiting Ceria and Kaden, so they’ll likely come as well. Just as a bit of heads up.”

Though he wasn’t thrilled at the thought of talking with his uncle, it would be nice to see his cousins again. He’d met them briefly on his first visit, and they’d been at his father’s funeral, but he hadn’t really had much of a chance to talk with them. “We’ll be there.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! LillyWan here. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I really wanted to give you all a peek into our main characters minds before we move on to see the family issues, because I always seem to forget that you don’t see what’s happening behind the scenes.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who left kudos, favorites, or follows on this story, it really means a lot to me. If you’re new here, please let me know you’re out there! Follow, favorite, Kudo, subscribe, review, comment… it all inspires me to keep going. Don’t be afraid to ask questions or leave constructive criticism or suggestions--not only does it help me to be a better writer, but I love to see what you guys are thinking and what things you might want to see.
> 
> And now, for all of my lovely (Reviewers? Reviewees? What do you guys want to be called?)
> 
> Jxjxjx (FF): Thank you for reading!
> 
> anesor (Ao3): Thank you so much for your honesty! Obi-Wan really doesn’t know his family that well, and I’m sure he misses the Jedi terribly. And who knows? We might see the padawan and grand-padawan relatively soon. ;)
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): I think the tension is one of the reasons Obi-Wan and Satine are my favorite couple to write. There’s never a boring moment with them. And you’re right, he has no real connection to Stewjon--yet--but there’s something that’s keeping him there that we’ll see soon.
> 
> Imekh Melaff (FF): I love replying to my reviewers. It gives me a chance to connect with my readers. I’ll admit, Chapter Three was definitely one of my favorites to write. And if you thought that was uncomfortable, better get prepared for the next chapter. We’ll finally be meeting a (very) small portion of the extended Kiyo family, and… whoops, don’t want to give too much away. Let’s just say that the snark runs in the family.
> 
> NakedFury (Ao3): He is kind of grumpy, isn’t he?
> 
> Once again, thank you all for your continued support. Until next time!


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet two of Obi-Wan's families.

Obi-Wan stepped out of the shower, reluctantly accepting the robe that appeared in front of him. A valet was just one of the many things he had insisted he didn’t need, and one of the many things it seemed that he still had. Heilyn was good, as far as valet’s went, but also completely unnecessary in Obi-Wan’s mind. However, Heilyn was also the oldest of eight siblings and was the only source of income for his family after his father had died in the bombings that took Cael. According to his mother, employing the son of her late husband’s late valet was the least they could do to help his struggling family.

So Obi-Wan allowed the boy to stay on the ever increasing rosters of servants that his family employed, and simply avoided coming home as often as possible.

“May I suggest a shave, my Lord?” Heilyn followed him into his room, where he’d already laid out Obi-Wan’s robes with meticulous precision. “I hear that the Duchess does not approve of excessive facial hair.”

Apparently, the Duchess had managed to charm all of his staff, for they had been very forthcoming with small suggestions ever since his arrival, with the reasoning that their guest preferred things that way. It was complete and utter ridiculousness.

“I believe I shall retain the beard, thank you Heilyn.”  Pulling on his robe as quickly as possible, he nodded towards the door. “I think I can manage the rest, thank you.”

The boy looked a bit scandalized. “My Lord, you can’t possibly think to go down to dinner like that, can you? Lord and Lady Leitis will be dining with the family tonight, and they will certainly believe you have gone mad!”

“I’m perfectly capable of dressing myself, you needn’t bother.” Obi-Wan sighed as Heilyn began rifling through his wardrobe again, no doubt looking for some other frivolous nonsense to add to his attire. “You’re free to go.”

“My Lord, it would be my pleasure to assist you. After all, I am your valet. It would be a disgrace to my family’s name not to assist your Lordship in such a basic matter.” Heilyn re-appeared from inside the massive cabinetry with perfectly folded undergarments in hand. “Here, my Lord. Let me take your robe.”

Obi-Wan surrendered the garment reluctantly, quickly pulling on the thermal underwear that the man offered him in its stead. No matter what his mother or sister said, he was pretty sure he would never get used to being naked in front of anyone, even if it was his valet. 

Heilyn folded the robe neatly, setting it aside with the recently used towel. “Would you like me to do your hair before or after you dress, my Lord?”

Never was the preferred answer, but Obi-Wan instinctively knew it was not one he would get away with. “After, please. But don’t let me keep you from anything you might have been doing before…”

“You are my top priority, My Lord. Nothing could come before you.”

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Obi-Wan acquiesced. “Hand me the leggings, then.”

“Tunics, My Lord, tunics first, leggings after.” Heilyn’s frown quickly turned into a radiant grin. “Ah, what would you do without my assistance?”

* * *

 

Satine was beginning to think this was a mistake.

Somehow, she hadn’t connected the fact that Adira’s cousin was bringing a friend to the realization that the friend was  _ not _ a cousin and very pretty.

Mor Leitis was the very epitome of Stewjonian beauty. Porcelain skin, dazzling green eyes, and coppery hair that gleamed in the warm light cast by the hundreds of candles that lit the dining room. Somehow, Ceria had managed to secure the seats on either side of Obi-Wan for herself and her friend, leaving Satine to sit at the other end of the table with Lady Adia and Tor and his wife, or, as she’d coined it, in the ‘old people’s’ seats.

Satine stabbed at her egg peevishly. Old people indeed. She was hardly four years their senior, and certainly younger than Obi-Wan. And they called her old.

And what pricked her ire even more was that neither Obi-Wan or Adira had  even thought to contradict her! Her friend had seemingly abandoned her, sitting directly beside her cousin without making a single move to invite Satine to dine with them.

Mor’s crisp, clear laugh grated across her nerves as one of the young men seemingly related some funny anecdote. Even Obi-Wan smiled from behind his wine glass, leaning over to listen to something Mor whispered in his ear.

Jealousy. It wasn’t a completely foreign feeling to her, but rare enough that she didn’t recognize it immediately. But when she did, she couldn’t find it within her to be appalled about it as she might have been before. After all, it wasn’t as if there was any chance…

“Adia, I must confess that I am surprised that Ben and the children are getting along so well. After what Tor has been telling me…” Indi trailed off, violet eyes sparkling. Though not a traditional Stewjon beauty, Indi was what remained of a darker, more exotic strain that once had inhabited the planet. “I was half expecting to come here to find some sort of Heathcliff to have overtaken my nephew.”

Lady Kiyo smiled. “Ben is far from a brooder, though I hardly expecting him to be so comfortable with them. But if anyone could draw my son of his shell, it would be Mor Leitis. She is one of the most charming girls I’ve ever met.”

_ Charming indeed _ . A gold digger was what she was. Satine bit into the buttery softness of her roll, wishing that Obi-Wan had never even considered leaving the order. At least there he wasn’t surrounded by doting women. Or, if he was, she didn’t see it.

That brought her up short. Did he have any female friends on Coruscant? In the Jedi temple? Jedi were hardly expected to remain celibate, she knew, but the thought that he might have taken a lover was unsettling to say the least.

“Satine, you’re hardly eating anything at all.” Tor frowned at her plate, still mostly untouched. “Is the food not too your liking?”

She laughed softly, pushing her plate aside and taking a sip of her wine. “No, it’s delicious. I fear I’m simply tired.”

Adia looked at her in concern, soft eyes troubled. “I hope Ben didn’t  push you too hard. It’s amazing how hard he works, and I’m afraid he doesn’t always realize that not everyone has the energy and stamina he does.”

Indi clicked her tongue, smiling. “So much like Cael. I swear the man never slept before he was married. Lord, I remember being an intern at the Administration building when he was serving his first term as advisor. He would be in his office from dawn till dusk, and would only leave then when some of his roguish friends would tear him away to go drinking or racing.” She popped a fruit in her mouth, chasing it down with some wine. “But if the man worked hard, he played harder. The parties that he used to throw…”

A smile, bittersweet with memories, touched Adia’s lips. “He did. We met at one of those parties. It was some sort of bonfire by the lake sort of things, and I remember sneaking there with one of my cousins. My parents had forbidden me from going, you see. I was only about fifteen at the time, and too young to really understand why they wouldn’t let me go.”

Interested, Satine set her drink down and leaned forward in her chair. “What happened?”

“Well, it was a glorified skinny dipping fest, but I didn’t realize it at first.”

“Did someone say skinny dipping?” Ceria’s brother, Kaden asked. Immediately, all of the attention of the table was drawn to them, and Satine could have sworn Adia blushed. “Don’t tell me my esteemed aunt participated in such a scandalous activity.”

Lady Kiyo took a delicate bite of her vegetables before answering. “Really, Kaden, I was young once. Even your father would take any opportunity to show off his pale backside to the ladies.”

Tor flushed, mumbling something under his breath as he took a hasty sip of his wine.

“Are you telling how you and father met, Mummy?” Adira asked, seemingly just as interested as anyone of them in the story. “Please talk loud enough so we can hear. Ben’s never heard the story, I don’t think.”

Adia smiled indulgently at her daughter and son, setting down her fork. “Well, then. As I said, Cael and some of his friends were hosting a bonfire party by the lake, and Moina had convinced me to go, even though my parents had made it clear that I wasn’t allowed to. As an afterthought, I think they knew exactly what kind of parties the Advisors threw.”

“Wild, like you wouldn’t believe.” Indi sat back in her chair, grinning. “Clothes were all but banned, fancy alcohol required, and some sort of reckless but impressive past time a must. Most of the time it was racing Shleppen, but it could be anything from rock climbing to wrestling. Skinny dipping was a favorite when everyone would be in the mountains for the winter.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, before Indi cut me off.” Adia gave her sister-in-law a withering glance, but her smile said it was all in good fun. “I didn’t know it was a skinny dipping party. Mind you, the only parties Moina and I had ever been to was the occasional birthday party or political social, and I think Cael knew that. Somehow, he managed to get her drunk within the first hour, before either of us had anything near a chance to figure out what was going on. And when I did, he’d already had me wrapped around his finger. Next thing I knew, my parents arrived to find my cousin passed out and me as naked as the day I was born with no clothes in sight.”

Tor smiled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I remember that. Your dad nearly castrated all of us on the spot.”

Quin, Mor’s older brother, grinned. “You guys have been holding out on us. Why haven’t we ever done anything like that?”

“Because it’s dangerous and our parents would definitely castrate us on the spot,” Kaden said matter of factly. Next in age age after Satine, he had a striking resemblance to Obi-Wan.“Though now that we’re old enough, I don’t see the harm. What do you think, Ben?”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raised at the question, obviously surprised by the question, but Ceria jumped in before he could reply. “Leave him alone, Kade. You know Jedi don’t do that sort of thing.”

A snort escaped her before she could stop it, and she felt herself turning red as everyone’s attention suddenly went to her. 

“Got something you want to share with the class, Duchess?” Kaden asked, smirking. “If you know something we don’t about our very mysterious cousin and his extremely mysterious life, be sure to tell us immediately.”

“I simply don’t know where Lady Ceria ould get the idea that Jedi are some sort of pious monks. I can tell you for a fact--and many of my friends and colleagues would agree--Jedi seem to enjoy their pleasures as much as the next person, except for usually more. Drinking, gambling--cheating, if you want to put it honestly--, racing… Lord knows what other methods of debauchery your esteemed cousin has participated in.”

“Our Ben? Participating in such lowly entertainment?” Ceria feigned shock. “Oh, say not so, cousin!”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “A little drinking, very little gambling. Racing--preferably not the motor type--I will admit to enjoying, even if I rarely participate in the sport. Her Grace will have to forgive me if I can’t remember any other forms of debauchery that I have engaged in.”

“Brawling? Skydiving?” Adira gazed at her brother with all the fascination of a virgin looking upon an experienced rake. “Clubbing? Dancing? Sex?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Let’s see. Sparring, yes, brawls, no. No skydiving…”

Satine scoffed. “What do you call jumping out of Padmé’s bedroom window?”

He hesitated. “Fine, but it’s not ever something I plan to do, or even enjoy. As for the rest, it all rests upon your point of view.”

“My point of view?” Kaden snorted in laughter, nearly choking on his wine. “Just answer the questions, man. Unless you’re afraid to show your mum anything other than her perfect baby boy.”

To her surprise, Obi-Wan flushed slightly, his eyes narrowing at his cousin. “The Jedi temple does not provide drinks, so my friends and I must look elsewhere for such. I only dance with the Senator Amidala and a few other select ladies among my acquaintances whenever I’m dragged to political functions. And for the last, Jedi are not allowed to have affairs.”

Ceria’s eyes sparkled. “You can’t pull that on us, Ben. Do you honestly think we didn’t all conduct as much research on Jedi as we could? Affairs--attachments, really--are forbidden, but celibacy is barely discouraged, if even expected. You can glean that much from the scandal sheets with your names spread across them.”

“Other Jedi’s names, perhaps, but…”

“Oh, no, I’ve seen your name in there as well,” Mor replied eagerly, finally jumping into the conversation. “Your a favorite with the ladies, it seems. Tell me, is it true you and Senator Amidala had a passionate affair shortly after the war began?”

His eyebrows shot up. “I certainly hope not, though I suppose she’s the most likely candidate for anyone to assume.”

“What about that blue twi’lek Jedi they’re always showing you with?” Indi put in, not one to be left out of the possibility of a tidbit of juicy gossip. “What’s her name?”

“Aayla Secura. Padawan to one of my closest friends. A good friend of an excess of ten years my junior.” He seemed amused at the concept, taking a sip of his wine. “Pray tell, who else has the media decided to pair me with?”

That brought a new topic of conversation to the table, as everyone seemed to have heard news of some affair or fling that they wanted to know the intimate details about. Obi-Wan replied to each of the inquiries good-naturedly and liberal doses of the dry humor he was known for, seemingly completely at ease.

It both surprised and didn’t surprise Satine. Surprising in the sense that she had never seen him this at ease (which she had to admit was a good look for him), and not surprising in the fact that she had known that he felt a connection to his family. What other reason could he have for wanting to run?

Even though she wouldn’t have predicted it in the beginning, she was beginning to doubt her first take on the situation. Upon her arrival, she had been fairly certain that he was set on returning to the Jedi. But after seeing him at work, and with his family, that certainty was fast crumbling.

And if hers was, she had little doubt that his was as well.

* * *

 

Anakin sighed deeply, dropping onto the sofa. “I’m lonely.”

From her place on the floor, Ahsoka grunted. “Well I ‘m busy. Go annoy someone else.”

“But there’s no one else to annoy.” When she ignored him, he used the Force to snatch her datapad.

“Hey! I’m using that!” She reached for it, but he dangled it just above her reach. “Master!”

Reluctantly, he dropped it back in her hands. “What are you doing, anyway?”

“Homework.”

He eyed the datapads scattered across the floor and coffee table. “You using all of those?”

“Mm-hmm.” Pulling out a stylus, she began writing something on a piece of flimsi. “I’ll sure be glad when Master Kenobi gets back. Master Kal’s a pain in the asteroid with all of his kriffing homework. And half of it doesn’t even make sense. I mean, what the hell is anarcho-primi… primiti… primitisma… oh, forget it. How am I supposed to understand what it means if I’ve never heard of it?”

Ah, political science class. He’d failed two years in a row. “Don’t ask me. Don’t you have the book?” 

She scowled. “I have all eight, but it’s an extra credit assignment. He talked about it in last weeks lecture, but we were off planet so I didn’t get to hear it.”

“If it’s extra credit, why bother?”

“Because he’s threatening to flunk me if I don’t, because I wasn’t in class last week. I didn’t know I had to turn in a stupid absence slip for missions.” Her frown grew. “Master Kenobi always knows when everybody’s off planet, and records his lectures so we could review them. And he never flunked anyone because they didn’t show up for  _ one _ day. Gods, I’ll be glad when he’s back.”

Anakin didn’t say anything. Like most of the padawans and knights, she simply thought that Obi-Wan was coming back after he got everything settled on Stewjon. But there had been talk among the Masters, and he supposed he’d known it from the first.

Obi-Wan wasn’t coming back.

He still had a month before his leave would be up, but Anakin already knew he wasn’t coming back. He supposed he wouldn’t either, if he was in a similar position. After all, what ties did he have? The whole point of being a Jedi was to remain wholly unattached from everyone and everything, and Obi-Wan  _ was _ the perfect Jedi. Honestly, he was surprised that he’d hesitated so long. 

The galaxy would miss him. Hell, they already did. Everyone in the Jedi temple seemed to feel the missing gear in their perfectly organized system, and the 212th and 501st asked about him everyday. And from what he’d heard from Padmé, the Republic was becoming restless without the great Negotiator on the front lines. Jedi like Obi-Wan were seen as the hope of of the war. Without him, they were lost.

* * *

 

**I’m soooo sorry this was so late! But good news! I finished Vanished, so I can finally dedicate my time to this story as well as my new series, Being Kenobi. Thank you guys for being so patient and supportive, I really appreciated all of your feedback on the last chapter.**

**So, we’ve met the Kiyos. Are they anything like you thought them to be? Honestly, it’s so fun to write them, to see all the differences and similarities to Obi-Wan that I can add in. A cool fact: Everyone’s name (with the exception of Indi) has it’s origins in Scots Gaelic, with the exception of Tor, who is just Scots.**

**Thank you for all of the new follows, favorites, and kudos! You guys really mean the world to me!**

**Imwkh Melaff (FF): occasionally, I can settle down and write some happy times for our favorite couple :). By the way, he might very well take offense, even if it’s true. Thank you so much for the feedback, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**tacker23 (FF): Thank you so much for reviewing! As you may have noticed, I love writing backstories and explanations, and this one was one of my favorites because I knew that later on, I’d need for Satine to have a good relationship with the family. But I’d better be careful not to give away too many spoilers!**

**hshh (Ao3): Obi-Wan’s inner conflict has always been a very important part of the story, but more of that will come into play later. Satine’s place in this is also very important, so keep an eye on that!**

**IRTooM (Ao3): Such a simple, but beautiful comment! Thank you so much!**

**anesor (Ao3): One of the very first ideas I had for this story was of Obi-Wan in darker robes, striding in angrily with his robe swirling behind, but I won’t give away any more spoilers. Let’s just say I have a thing for Obi-Wan as a power figure, and the tan robes just don’t put off that vibe. I hope you enjoyed seeing a bit of the padawan and grandpadawan, even if it was a bit short.**

**Nightshade_sydneylover150: So, I hinted at the connection, though it has yet to be made explicitly clear. But we did see a bit of the Jedi family, and they will certainly make several more appearances.**

**Because I’m very excited and feeling a sort of spoilerish mood, I want to give you guys a very vague outline of this story:**

**_Arc One - Transition and Family_ **

 

  * **_**_Takes place over a years time_**_**


  * **_Twelve key events_**


  * **_Ten+ chapters_**


  * **_Main Characters: Obi-Wan, Satine, Adira, Adia, and extended Kiyo family_**


  * **_Minor Characters: Anakin, Ahsoka, (Spoiler) male OC, and assorted Stewjonian friends_**



 

**_Arc Two - Rise and Division_ **

 

  * **_**_Takes place over two+ years_**_**


  * **_Fifteen key events_**


  * **_Fifteen+ chapters_**


  * **_Main Characters: Obi-Wan and Satine, Anakin and Padmé, Ahsoka, Adira, Adia, and Palpatine_**


  * **_Minor Characters: (Spoiler) leaders, (Spoiler) twins, (Spoiler) commanders, (Spoiler) male OC, (Spoiler)  male OC_**



 

**_Arc Three - Fall and Reconciliation_ **

 

  * **_**_Takes place over six months time_**_**


  * **_Three key events_**


  * **_Five- chapters_**


  * **_Main Characters: Obi-Wan and Satine, Anakin and Padmé, (Spoiler) OC, Kiyo family_**


  * **_Minor Characters: (Spoiler) twins_**



 

**_Epilogue_ **

**Very exciting, huh? I can’t wait!**

**Until next time, loves!**


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some introspection from Obi-Wan.

Finally, he was alone.

His cousins and the Leitis siblings had accepted Adira’s offers to stay the night, and were now preparing themselves for bed, though he had little doubt that they would be awake for hours to come. Eventually, he might join them again, but for now he had come to the gardens to meditate. 

_ A Jedi shall not know anger, nor hate, nor love. _

It seemed as if every teaching he had ever held to was crumbling before him. His whole world was lying in pieces around him, and he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to put them all back together again. And the worst thing was, he didn’t  _ want _ to.

_ Trust the will of the Force, Obi-Wan. _

But how did one determine what was the will of the Force? Qui-Gon had made it sound easy, as if he wouldn’t have to choose; it would do everything for him, that there was only one road, and he just had to be careful not to step off of it. He’d never mentioned that the road split, and twisted, and often was so obscure that it was little more than a footpath in an endless forest.

No, the will of the Force rarely seemed inclined to enlighten him. How many times had it seemed to pull him in a different direction than he was supposed to go?

Agricorps, Melida/Daan, Satine, Qui-Gon, Anakin, Maul, Knighthood, the War, Mastery, Family.

And those were only the most prominent ones.

Ten times when he thought he had been following the will of the Force, and ten times he had been wrong.

He’d sworn to never do it again. And yet, here he was.

If it had been just for him, he might stay. But so much was dependent upon him that it made leaving the order not only the selfish option, but also the cowardly one.

On one hand, he had everything he had ever known. The people he had grown up around, the position he had worked hard to attain, the duties and responsibilities placed on his shoulders by the Order and the Republic. His alliances were never to be questioned, his goals and duties steady and unchanging. It was a life he was used to, and not entirely eager to leave.

But here, there was a completely different set of reasons. A family, only recently found, but no less precious for it. Everything about Stewjon--Kiyhof, his family, the city, the countryside--felt like home. Here, there was very little order, but no less peace. He was surrounded by people who cared for him, people whom he was also beginning to care for. Here, there was no war, no strife. Here, he wasn’t a Jedi Master, or General of the Republic.

Here, he was just Ben.

He couldn’t remember a time in his life when practically nothing had been expected of him. First, he’d had to fight to earn the right to become a padawan, then a knight. There had been no space to breath between that and becoming Anakin’s master, and even less between his former apprentice’s knighting and his ascension to General. Somewhere along the way he’d also become a Master and had only recently been placed on the Council. Obi-Wan was constantly being confronted with some new hurdle that must be overcome, be it a difficult mission or simply attempting to maintain the facade of a perfect Jedi. Obi-Wan was tired, a man aging before his time.

Ben, on the other hand, was looked upon without reproach. There was no pressure from his family to be something he couldn’t, or didn’t want to be. Well, at least with the exception of Tor, who seemed unable to  _ not _ pressure someone. But even he meant well, in his own way, and Obi-Wan could hardly fault him for trying to look out for his family in the only way he knew.

And then, there was Satine.

He still cared for her, he could not deny it. He wouldn't deny it. But he’d determined from the beginning not to let her presence affect his decision making. And yet, when the two choices before him balanced the scale, there had to be something to offset.

But who was to say that his leaving the Order would make any difference on her part? 

No, he couldn’t rely on his feelings, fickle things as they were. The choice--one which he hadn’t even realized he struggled with until that day--was one not to be taken lightly.

Standing, he absently began looking about for something that could be equivalent to a lightsaber. Even the council hadn’t asked him to, he’d left it behind at the temple. Until now, he’d been too occupied with his work to practice, but now…

A brief search of the gardens found a reasonably straight stick. Even though he was used to training with a partner, he fell back into the katas easily. There was something about the familiarity of the exercise that was calming. Even if it was just for a moment, he didn’t want to think about the decision lying before him. Sparring had always been his method of escaping reality, from the time he was young.

“Mind if I join you?”

Kaden ducked quickly as the stick Obi-Wan was using very nearly missed his head. “Force, Kade, you shouldn’t have sneaked up on me like that.”

His cousin, only a couple years his junior, raised an eyebrow. “What about your Jedi reflexes?”

“My Jedi reflexes are what nearly just got your head lopped off.” Tossing the stick aside ruefully, he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“How long have you known Satine?”

For some reason, the fact that Kaden felt comfortable enough to call her by her first name rankled. “Literally or figuratively?”

Kaden’s eyebrows shot up. “Depends on what you mean by literally.”

“How long has it been since I first met her, or how much time have I actually spent in her presence.” Obi-Wan frowned, cocking his head to the side curiously. “What other way would you think I meant?”

His cousin flushed. “Nevermind. Both, I suppose.”

“I met her over fifteen years ago, but I suppose I’ve only known her for a couple years, being generous. Why?” He had a bad feeling about this conversation, and those feelings generally turned out to be correct.

Not assuring at all.

He could be wrong, of course. His cousin could just be curious, or even in a matchmaking mood. Surely he didn’t…

“I don’t know, I just thought you might be able to tell if she…” Kaden’s face was steadily growing pinker, and he tugged on his ear anxiously. “You don’t have to look like that. She’s not that much older than me. Only a year and a couple months.”

Too late, he realized that he was gaping. “I didn’t say…”

“You didn’t have to.” Kaden straightened a bit. “Anyways, what else could it be? We’ve seen each other on occasion over the last few years. I’m well off, she’s well off, so we’d never want for anything. I’m not in direct line to the throne--yet, anyway--so it’s not as if I have some other commitment. We’re both of age. What could be wrong?”

Perhaps the fact that Satine was  _ his _ ? “You don’t even know if she likes you.” He wanted to add that there was not a distant possibility that she did, but he had a feeling that would be going a bit too far. “As it is, Satine is dedicated to her people and Mandalore. I’ve often heard her say that she could never pursue a relationship with anyone, as they would undoubtedly take her away from her work.”  He was paraphrasing, of course, but his idiot cousin didn’t have to know that.

His idiot cousin who seemed completely unmoved by his words. “I can move to Mandalore, and even help her. After all, I’ve been raised around politics. I could--and would--pull my own weight.” Raking a hand through his hair, he smiled in a way that could only be called utterly besotted. “I know that the media always paints her in a cold light, but she’s really not like that. Once you get to know her…”

“She’s a cruel, calculating female, like all the others. Worse, if you ask me.” A brilliant idea popped into his head, and he fought the urge to smirk. “Though, I suppose that’s to be expected of a politician. She’s certainly one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy, and in high demand. Why, just this evening she was approached by my tailor, Konnor. Of course, he made the mistake of not being completely honest about his intentions. The Duchess values nothing if not honesty of intentions.”

Kaden appeared to mull over his words before replying. “So… you’re saying I should just tell her?”

Oh, he was setting him up for cruel disappointment. But what was the use of delaying the inevitable? “Of course. In fact, you can tell her now.”

Something akin to panic crossed his cousin’s features as the Duchess herself emerged from the house, seemingly dressed in nothing but a silken shift and robe.

_ Blast it all _ . From the awestruck gape that Kaden was portraying, Obi-Wan was doubting that the image of Satine dressed in nightclothes was not one he would be forgetting anytime soon. If he was honest, neither would he. A dangerous thought.

On her part, she seemed surprised to see Kaden, and he noticed her self-consciously tug her robe a bit tighter around her. “Ah, I didn’t realize anyone was out here.”  _ Liar _ . “I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Not at all.” Kaden, who seemed to have recovered somewhat, glanced at him briefly. “In fact, we were just speaking about you.”

Even if he didn’t have the Force--which he did--Obi-Wan knew all the signals that showed that he was supposed to leave at this point in time. Choosing to ignore that, he assumed his  _ don’t mind me, I’m just a Jedi _ pose, wishing belatedly that he had his robe to tuck his arms into. 

If Satine realized what was taking place, she gave no sign of it, smiling at Kaden in a near disinterested way. “Were you?”

“Mm. Yes.” Seeming to realize that Obi-Wan had no intention of moving, Kaden offered his arm to the Duchess. “Actually, there was something I wanted to speak with you about. Shall we walk?”

Now her eyes widened slightly, and she shot Obi-Wan a questioning look. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if he was about to meditate. A soft, but frustrated, huff was his only response.

“Of course, my Lord.”

A relieved exhale. “Ah, good. Thank you, Your Grace.”

* * *

 

_ That bastard _ .

Satine could have kicked herself. What had she been thinking, trying to come out here to talk to Obi-Wan? Now, here she was, dressed in her silk pajamas, on the arm of his cousin, walking through the gardens in awkward silence?

She could speak first, she supposed, but Kaden was the one who had wanted to talk to her, not the other way around. If he had something to say to her, then he would have to say it. In the meantime, she would just seeth about Obi-Wan’s complete lack of concern about the situation.

He’d purposefully ignored her. Whatever it was that his cousin had to say to her, he knew it, and he wanted her to hear it. No doubt something that would bring her severe embarrassment and him supreme enjoyment.

“Duchess. Your Grace.” Kaden started, paused, started again, then cut off once again, appearing to collect his thoughts. “Satine. I may call you Satine?”

She blinked at the question. “Ye… yes. It is my name.”

His responding laugh was short and distracted, and he pulled away from her. “Yes, I suppose it is.” He’d come to a complete stop, forcing her to do the same. “It is a… very… beautiful… name.”

He was nervous, but she could hardly fathom why. “Thank you.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Oh. Oh no. No, no, no. Satine felt her face go red, and she resisted the urge to look around for someone. This could not be happening. “I... ah… thank you. Again.” She’d never exactly been in a position like this before, and she wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. “Thank you, but…”

His smile slipped slightly, shoulders dropping. “Ah, I see.”

“Yes.” How could any woman find it thrilling to thwart a possible lover? This was blasted awkward. “I’m sorry, it’s not you…”

“No, I understand. There’s no need for you to apologize.” He was hurt, but being an entirely good sport about it. “It was just a silly thought, anyway.”

Kriff. If there was one thing Satine hated, it was disappointing people. That, and when they were being so damn nice about it. Guilt prompted her to try again. “I truly am sorry…”

He smiled, and she couldn’t tell if it was forced or genuine. “You haven’t broken my heart, Duchess.”

The assurance made her feel minutely better, but not much. “I would hope not. Shall we go back, then?”

“You go on. I… I have something I need to check on first.”

It was an excuse, but she would take it. Anything to get away from this awkward situation. Offering a small smile that she hoped was consoling, she hurried back in the direction of the house.

Obi-Wan was right where they’d left him, eyes closed and hands clasped behind his back. Serene. Innocent. Too innocent.

“How dare you.”

He didn’t even try to play dumb. “I tried to tell him. He wouldn’t listen.”

“Are you saying you didn’t encourage him?” Her voice was wavering, betraying how hurt she actually was. “What was this, some sort of amusement to you?”

His eyes opened slowly, blank and emotionless. He stared at her for a minute before speaking. “I tried to dissuade him, but he refused to listen. So I simply told him that he would get nowhere without talking to you first.”

She scoffed. “You set him up for disappointment.”

“Better sooner than later, in my opinion,” He muttered, almost too quiet for her to hear. “How was I even supposed to know what you were going to answer, as it is?”

She managed to bite her tongue a second before an ill-advised declaration was made. After all, he had a point. What was he supposed to say? It wasn’t as if she was here on a romantic retreat. She was supposed to be here on the behalf of a friend, to help a business associate. Realistically, he was only following the precedence that she had set.

So why was she so angry about it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies! I apologize for the short, somewhat filler-ish chapter, but it’s very important for character development. I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the new follows, favorites, kudos, subscriptions and bookmarks! You guys truly are amazing. And now, for my very single, very lonely reviewer:
> 
> Anesor (Ao3): Thank you so much for your review! I feel like Obi-Wan agrees with you, though he’s definitely conflicted about it. Hopefully he can come to be at peace with whatever decision he makes.
> 
> Once again, thank you for the support, and see you all in two weeks!


	8. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is forced to come to a decision.

**_Dùin do chab: shut up_ **

**_Òrdugh: Order_ **

* * *

 

Her time here was almost over.

Satine looked around the virtually empty room mournfully. In only three weeks, she’d gotten used to her quarters at Kiyhof, and was loath to leave them for the piles of work that were likely waiting for her in Sundari. She’d been conducting as much business as possible remotely, not wanting to fall too far behind during her impromptu vacation, but the increase in workload was inevitable. Only so many meetings could be conducted via comm, and she had already been told twice this morning that one of their trade partners would be arriving on Mandalore at the end of the week to renegotiate their former agreements. 

Yes, there was no choice for her but to leave.

She would miss this, though. The airy coolness of Stewjon and all of it’s residences, the calm lifestyle the people indulged in, the afternoons in Obi-Wan’s office, the easy comradery of the Kiyos…

“How could you do this to me?” Angry footsteps sounded in the hall, doubtlessly belonging to the speaker.

“Adira, I swear I didn’t know who he was.”  Obi-Wan’s voice, much lower than his sister’s. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have invited him if I had.”

“Oh,  _ Dùin do chab _ ,” Adira snapped irritably. “Maybe if you spent more time caring about what your family is doing and less waiting to go back to your precious  _ òrdugh _ you would actually know something for once.” The sound of her door slamming echoed through the hall, a sharp ending to the conversation.

Ah yes, the family squabbles. She would miss those as well.

Setting aside her packing, Satine went to the door and peeked out to see Obi-Wan standing in the middle of the hall, looking more than a little bewildered. “What was it this time?”

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair. The ginger strands had grown out since his arrival, and they flopped over his forehead roguishly. “I met Eoin Riordan today, and invited him here for the dinner. I didn’t have the slightest clue that he and Adira aren’t on good terms.”

“I can hear you, you know!”

Stifling a laugh, Satine motioned for him to follow her into the room, closing the door behind them. “I suppose you hadn’t heard about the engagement, then.”

“How could I? She never spoke of it.” His eyes flickered across the room, and he fingered the dress she had just laid out. “Even if I had, how was I to know that she would abhor her own fiancé so much?”

“You couldn’t, I suppose.”  She had known about him for years, since she’d been the one Adira had vented to on the subject many a time. “Of all the people you could have decided to invite, you somehow managed to get your sister’s most hated intended?”

“Blame him if you must. Bloody bastard had to have known who I was, and never said a word,” he grumbled, though there was no menace in his words. “Why would anyone be engaged to someone that they hate, anyway?” 

Satine shrugged. “She has no choice. Your parents arranged it with his several years ago. According to her, Riordan’s family was suffering from financial difficulties and his grandfather, who was his legal guardian, agreed that Eoin would be Cael’s heir if he would give them a certain sum of money. However, when he--your father--became the Lord, the council added the stipulation that Eoin would have to marry Adira or his family would be forced to repay the money given to them, as the law does not allow godchildren to inherit the throne.”

Obi-Wan sat down on the edge of her bed. “But Riordan doesn’t have the money, so he won’t break off the engagement.”

“Actually, no. From your mother’s accounts, the family invested the money wisely and is now well off. They could well afford to pay their debts. As it is, if it’s money their after, they would have profited far more by breaking the engagement and marrying Eoin off to some other rich girl. The wedding can’t take place until Adira agrees to it.”

“So why won’t he release her?” As it seemed to be his habit when he was thinking, he smoothed his beard and mustache carefully. “He didn’t seem like a money hungry blackguard when I met him, though I suppose looks could be deceiving.”

“I couldn’t tell you, as I’ve yet to meet him. I only have Adira’s and your mother’s accounts of the situation. The latter looks favourably on the match, as it is.”

“Shouldn’t Adira be able to break it off? He can’t just keep her enslaved forever, can he?”

“Now that,  I don’t know. You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Taking the last of her gowns out of the closet, she inspected it carefully before laying it out on a chair. “I suppose we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?”

He hummed in agreement, but his brows drew together as if he was troubled about something. “Do you think what she said was right?”

She didn’t have to ask what that was. “About wanting to go back to the Jedi?”  

“I don’t have a choice.” He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “The Order is already on precarious footing with the Senate, and they’re already uneasy about the length of my absence. Palpatine has demanded the Council come forward with the information on my absence or the Republic will take measures to ensure Jedi compliance in all things going forward.”

Satine inhaled sharply. “They can’t do that, can they?”

“I’m afraid they can. Tensions were already high before I left, and the Republic doesn’t like the thought that their protectors could desert them at any moment.” Obi-Wan stood, pacing slowly. “The Council would prefer that I cut my leave short rather than bow to the whims of the Senate. As it is, one of the reasons Jedi are not allowed contact with family is to keep them safe from the public eye. I wouldn’t want to do that to my family.”

“So you’ll go back.”

“At least until the end of the war,” he amended. “I’m not ruling out the idea of returning, but I can’t do that until I’ve at least dispensed with my duty to the Republic.”

That surprised her. “Would you have stayed, do you think, if circumstances were different?”

He hesitated. “If there had never been a war? Maybe, maybe not. Though it is a large factor in my decision, it influences me both ways. Before it, I wanted to be a Jedi for the rest of my life. I valued the peace and independence of it. But now that I see what a facade it truly was, that we are little more than slaves to the Republic… I will serve in this war because it is my duty, and because I swore my loyalty as a General. But once it is over, I would not want to put myself in the same position again. If I had known beforehand the situation that I would be in now, I would have turned in my lightsaber.”

* * *

 

“Heilyn.”

The boy emerged from his closet, black robes draped carefully over his arm. “Yes, milord?”

Obi-Wan paused in drying his hair. “Who am I, to you?”

The valet didn’t even hesitate as he laid out the robes on the bed. “Lord Ben Kiyo, my employer.” Meticulously, he took out brush and comb and set them on the dresser. “A trim, milord?”

“Yes, thank you.” He sat down to face the mirror. His hair was getting ridiculously long, even if his mum insisted that she preferred it that way. “Have you ever thought it strange, Heilyn, that you’re valet to a Jedi?”

He paused, but only for a second. “No stranger than I would have thought it if you were a Senator or business magnate. I understand that being a Jedi is a part of who you are, but it would not change the way I think of you. Should it, milord?”

“Not if you don’t think it should.” In a matter of minutes, Heilyn had given him a better trim than he would have gotten in an hour if he had done it himself. “When you first met me… was I anything like you thought I would be?”

“As a Jedi or as Ben Kiyo?”

“Both.”

Heilyn didn’t pause in his clipping, though his furrowed brow showed that he was thinking. “You’re very much like your father, if I may say so, milord. A bit quieter, like her Ladyship, but one expected as much. As to being a Jedi… I believe Stewjon is different than other systems on the subject. We don’t--forgive me fore the word--worship Jedi like some others do. Most know about them, and respect them, but much in the same way that we might treat visiting royalty. We don’t believe in making a big deal about people, because they’re just that--people.” With one last flourish of the comb, he put it back in the drawer designated for such implements. “If you could stand, milord, I’m finished with your hair.”

Obi-Wan complied, but his mind continued to turn over Heilyn’s words again and again.

Just people.

He hadn’t been  _ just _ a person in more than a year.

Before the war, Jedi had been seen far differently. Much in the same way that a smuggler or entertainer was recognized in a bar. The war had seemed to boost them to celebrity status overnight. Some, like Anakin, had basked in the spotlight, revelling in the difference of atmosphere. 

He’d never wanted it. 

It had been a welcome reprieve, coming to Stewjon. He hadn’t recognized it at first, but being treated as just another person was something he’d missed more than he wanted to admit. Even his fellow Jedi treated him as if he was somehow superior to them. 

“There, milord.” Somehow, in the time he’d been thinking, Heilyn had maanged to manipulate him into his robes without his knowledge. 

Stepping in front of the floor length mirror, he absently straightened his cuffs, though he doubted it made any significant difference to his appearance. Then again, he had yet to really understand how to judge his reflection.

His comm unit beeped, and he glanced at the number only briefly before answering. “Finally decided to call up your master, Anakin?”

“Ma… master…” Anakin’s voice cracked, and he released an audible groan of pain. “He… help me…”

* * *

 

Something was off.

“Duchess?”

Satine turned her attention back to her dinner partner, none other than Eoin Riordan himself. “Hmm? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

He smiled, hazel eyes twinkling. “I expected as much after you said you confirmed that you were an alien pilot that shoots down asteroids for a living.” She flushed, and he laughed gently. “Don’t worry, I understand. I’m afraid I’m not the most brilliant orator.”

“Oh, no, I really was enjoying our conversation.” What little she had heard, that was. “It’s just… I was distracted for a moment.”

Eoin hummed in response, turning to look over his shoulder. “I see. His Lordship does look quite dashing tonight, doesn’t he? A little in a temper, but I’ve heard that the ladies like a brooding person.”

She knew she was blushing, but there was little she could do to stop. “I heard he was the one to invite you.”

“Ah, yes.” He laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously. “Though I’m not sure I gave him much of a choice on the matter. I suppose I can only hope that Adira doesn’t know.”

“You didn’t consider that he may not know of the ill-ease between you and your intended, and may have thus unknowingly awakened his sister’s ire.”

Eoin said something in Stewjonian that made the lady sitting at the next table raise her eyebrows. “Was she really angry?”

Satine took a sip from her glass of wine, savoring the rich taste. “I don’t believe she and O--Ben are on speaking terms at the moment. I take it that she does not care for you.”

“That is an understatement.” Some of the sparkle left his eyes, and he began to fiddle with his drink. “Adira has never cared for me, and I suspect our engagement has only worsened her opinion of me. I’m not sure what I have done to earn her undying disrespect, but I’m beginning to doubt that I can change it, and especially not in eight months.”

She didn’t want to ask, but curiosity got the better of her. “What happens then?”

“Our engagement ends. Whether in a wedding or by the repayal of our debt, I have yet to find out.” He exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I never should have agreed to this farce of an engagement. I knew from the beginning what her feelings were, but I hoped. I hoped that in ten years, I could change her mind. Surely, Duchess, you can understand what it is to hope?”

His gaze was so honest and damn hopeful that she didn’t have it in her heart to tell him no. After all, she did know what it was to hope, especially after someone she could never have. “You care for her then.”

“I love her,” he replied frankly. “I always have, and I daresay always will. A pitiful notion, truly, but one that I can’t and have no wish to be rid of. Even though the engagement has likely forever soured me for her, I can’t stop now. I’ve come this far, and I will push through to the end, even if it’s just to hear her reject me.” His smile slipped a bit, but he did his best to remain cheerful. “Anyway, that’s enough about me. Tell me, is the brother just as much of a heartbreaker as the sister?”

It took her a moment to realize what he was saying, but when she did, she felt the heat in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I think you do.” He sat forward confidentially. “You see, Satine--may I call you Satine?--it’s always easy for someone thwarted in love to recognize a person thwarted in love. And considering how you’ve spent half of this conversation looking over my shoulder, I can only assume that I am not said thwarter. Next to me, Ben Kiyo is the only other person in this room capable of drawing the attention of a lady such as yourself.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled to the surface. “You’re incorrigable.”

He winked. “And you like me all the more for it.”

She did like him, much to her surprise. She’d been prepared to disdain him on her friend’s behalf, but it wasn’t easy. Maybe all of this was simply a facade he’d put up to impress her--entirely possible, for she found that she could be very gullible--but only time would tell. Until then…

She spared one more glance at Obi-Wan, who was sitting at the main table with his mother and the other council members who had come. Even though he was dressed immaculately--his valet certainly knew what he was doing--it was clear that something was bothering him. 

His eyes met hers for a moment, and he offered a forced smile before turning back to his mother. She’d known him long enough to recognize the motion as a put off.

So he wanted to play mysterious. Well, that was fine with her. After all he couldn’t hide forever.

Taking another sip of her wine, she turned back to Eoin with a small smile. “So, tell me. How did you and Adira first meet?” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we’re off. With Eoin added to the mix, we are officially under way. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have crossed a bridge and are now rapidly sailing towards the end of the first arc. A few more chapters, and we’ll finally be able to see some actual development happening.
> 
> Anyone else love Eoin? Even though his character was largely undeveloped in my mind before this chapter, he’s rapidly becoming a favorite in my mind.
> 
> Can you believe we’ve made it 100 kudos on Ao3? It’s truly crazy, and I can’t imagine that there are a hundred people out there who have taken the time to read and enjoy my story. And that doesn’t even include all of you on Fanfiction. I love you all, and thank you for the continued support.
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): Thank you!
> 
> shoesareoverrated (FF): I’m glad you weren’t disappointed! Btw, I love your name. Barefoot forever!
> 
> Morbiusman (Ao3): He certainly is the brave one in the situation. I almost feel sorry for him.
> 
> Guest22 (Ao3): Thank you so much! I understand you completely. I don’t like leaving reviews either, but I’m always glad to receive them. I’m glad you’re enjoying this!
> 
> hshh (Ao3): You may not have thought you had the words to say, but your review warmed my heart. I’m so happy you enjoyed this!
> 
> Thank you to all who left reviews, I really am grateful for your continued support for all of my stories. I love you all, and I’ll see you next week!


	9. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan comes to a decision with a little help from his two favorite women.

He had to leave.

Obi-Wan drummed his fingers on the edge of the table idly, the unease caused by Anakin’s call persisting in the back of his mind. He’d already spoken to the council, who assured him that they knew of his former padawan’s peril and had already notified the closest squadron, but it did little to settle the disquiet in his gut.

His friend, his  _ brother _ needed him, and here he was, chatting with politicians and royalty. It wasn’t that the dinner or it’s attendants were bad; quite the contrary. He just couldn’t enjoy it when he knew Anakin could be hurting, or worse. Why else would the boy have called him, if it wasn’t for the fact that the matter was urgent?

“Ben?” His mother appeared at his shoulder, delicate brows furrowed in concern. “Is everything okay?”

He sighed, returning her kiss on the cheek. “Anakin commed me a few hours ago. His mission went wrong, and he’s been injured. The council has sent a medical frigate from their nearest checkpoint, but it won’t be there for another eight hours, at the very least.”

“And you’re closer?” He nodded, and she blinked. “Then why are you still here?”

He hesitated, knocked off guard by the question. “I… my leave isn’t up for another week, and you’ve had this dinner planned for two. If I leave now, there’s no guarantee that they’ll let me…”

She placed her hand over his, understanding in her eyes. “Did I ever tell you that the Jedi gave me a choice whether or not I wanted to keep you?”

The abrupt change of subject brought him up short. “No. I thought law dictates…”

“In the case that the individual in question is a firstborn or heir, the Jedi allow the parents to make their own decision about the child’s future.” Her smile was sad, the barest sheen of tears showing in her eyes as she squeezed his hand. “I’d had difficulties in conceiving a child, and the doctors weren’t hopeful of another. When Lonn, our physician, told us that you were Force-sensitive, he advised us to keep you, despite the possible consequences. Your father wanted to keep you, no matter what, but I knew that it would have been wrong for us to stop you. I didn’t know much how the Force worked, but I knew that whatever it did, It had chosen you for a reason, and who was I to stand in it’s way?”

“So you gave me up.” He wondered if he should feel hurt by the fact, but couldn’t it within him to be so.

“I let you go. I knew you had abilities that I could never comprehend, that I would only hold you back. I knew that in the Temple, you would receive the training you would need, the attention you deserved. There were families that raised Force-sensitive children themselves, and they all went on to do great things, but nothing in comparison to what you have.” Lovingly, she brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead. “I’m so proud of you, Ben, and even though it hurts to know that I can’t keep you forever, it hurts more to think that I would stand in the way of who you are.”

Kriff. Obi-Wan tried to swallow the lump of emotion growing in his throat, to no avail. He’d tried to suppress  unwelcome sentiments for most of his life, but this woman somehow managed to single-handedly break down even the densest of his walls. “I love you, mum.”

Delighted surprise lit in her eyes, and she smiled through her tears. “I love you too, Ben.”

* * *

 

Satine sighed in relief as the lift doors closed, happy to finally be alone. She’d spent the last hour navigating the rooms of Kiyhof, trying and failing to find a moment’s peace. Everywhere she went, it seemed that someone wanted to talk to her, to get her opinion on one topic or another. She’d never enjoyed parties for that exact reason, but having a single goal in mind made it all the worse.

The cool night air met her when she stepped out of the lift and onto the rooftop, bringing refreshment after the stifling feeling of being inside. Here, there was another garden, much like the one surrounding the house, only on a much smaller scale.

Then there was Obi-Wan. 

He stood at the pinnacle of the roof, hands clasped behind his back and head bowed. Doubtlessly meditating on whatever it was that had upset him. Whenever she’d seen him meditating before, however, he’d always seemed calm and at peace. The furrowing of his brow and tension in his stance spoke of something far different.

“Obi?”

His shoulders slumped a bit at her voice, disappointment seeming to roll of him. “I can’t stay.”

She forced herself to exhale slowly, her mind racing through the possibilities of the statement. Had the council called him back already? She knew first hand how powerful the Chancellor was; there was little doubt he could force the Jedi to do whatever he wanted, even if the practices to get them there was on the unethical side. “Next week?”

“Tonight.” His eyes snapped open, the distress as clear in the slate gray orbs. “Anakin’s in trouble, injured. I have to… I have to help him.”

No wonder he seemed so torn up. She’d heard many things about the iconic duo of Kenobi and Skywalker, and close didn’t do them justice. “Have you told your family?”

“Mum knows, and I’m sure she’ll tell Adira. I’m afraid she’s still none too happy with me.” Running his fingers through his hair, he looked back out toward Kiystad, still brightly lit despite the late hour. “I have no idea when I’ll be able to come back. Generally, I’m giving a few days of leave between missions, but war is a demanding mistress who does not like to share.”

“But you’ll bow to her whims because you know it’s the only way to save the galaxy, even if you get killed in the process.” Gods, she loved him. “And that is why there will never be a better Jedi.”

She saw the objection in his eyes before he even opened his mouth. “I’m not…”

She kissed him.

He stayed frozen for a moment, stiff and unresponsive. Then, cautiously and somewhat fearfully, he kissed her back, unfailingly gentle even in this. Under her fingertips, through the fine wool of his robes, she could feel him relaxing, the tightness in his muscles unwinding. He tasted heady and intoxicating, of wine and herbs. His beard--something she had yet to get used to--wasn’t stiff and prickly as she had imagined, but soft and a bit ticklish.

Somehow, it was both the same and vastly different from the quick, covert kisses they’d shared when they were younger, or even the occasional languid, desperate ones they’d had the chance to indulge in the night before he’d left. Like them, it was something of bittersweet understanding. Their version of maturity, if a kiss could be classified as such.

Satine pulled back first, tears immediately welling up in her eyes. “You are.”

* * *

 

It took him a good twenty seconds to realize what she was talking about. The kiss had fried his brains like water on a circuit board. How she was even able to talk was a wonder to him.

He stared at her for a full minute, trying to comprehend what had just happened. She’d kissed him. She’d  _ kissed _ him. 

Why in the blazes had she kissed him?

And even more importantly, why had he kissed her back?

It was a prime example of why he was not a good Jedi. Good Jedi didn’t go around visiting their family and smooching pretty politicians. At least, not if they weren’t Anakin, who was also Force-sensitive enough to cover a multitude of sins.

“Don’t.” Her hand was soft and delicate where it cupped the side of his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning into her touch. “Don’t compare yourself to them. You’ll never come out on top if you do.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had told him that. Qui-Gon had often told him the same thing. In fact, several of his elders had, though not nearly as much of late. When he’d been a youngling, despairing of ever earning the right to become a padawan, the creche master had been a firm believer that he was his own person, and remarkable in his own.

If it had been true, than why had all the others in his class been picked and he’d been sent to Agricorps? Whatever had been so remarkable about him obviously hadn’t been very desirable, for several masters had shied away from him in favor of other younglings. Even Qui-Gon had only taken him on as a way to settle his debt.

Even now, as the possibility of taking a new padawan arose, and he’d had occasion to look in on those of a suitable age, he’d been reluctant to shoulder the responsibility. Most of the younglings fell on either end of the spectrum of talent, and he didn’t trust himself on either. He didn’t have the skills to teach a student who was extremely talented--Anakin was proof of that. At the same time, he needed a padawan who was independent and strong enough to look after themselves, either on or off the battlefield. The front lines was no place for a youngling, and he couldn’t bear the thought of choosing a padawan only to have them shot down a few days later.

How many other masters had suffered the same?

No, he was better off without one. Anakin had shown him just how incompetent he was, especially in the teaching department. After the war, if he stayed with the Jedi, he might take a student, but for now, it was better that he dismiss the thought in its entirety. He had Anakin and Ahsoka, who were more than enough for him to handle.

“Stop.”  Her lips pressed against his again, somehow too long, yet not long enough. “Stop thinking. You think too much.”

“But I’m not…”

She rested her forehead against his, toying  “Name one Jedi who follows the code even half as rigorously as you do.”

“Master Yoda, Master Windu…”

Satine rolled her eyes. “Someone who didn’t found the order. Someone who’s less than sixty.”

He wanted to kiss her, but felt that it would only lesson his credibility as a Jedi. Not that he had much of that right now. “Luminara Unduli. Shaak Ti. Adi Gallia.”

If she was listening, he couldn’t tell, and he honestly didn’t care. Her fingers were playing with the hairs along the nape of his neck, her slim body pressed flush to his as she nuzzled his neck. “You’re too hard on yourself.”

That might actually be true.

“Go.” Her voice was a whisper, her eyes heavy lidded and dark. “Go, save the galaxy. And when you’re done, come back to us.”

She wasn’t asking him to stay, but the words were no less powerful. He had a mission, a task to complete. For the first time since he’d arrived, the will of the Force seemed to be clearly calling to him, telling him what needed to do.

Obligations first, love and family second.

After all, wasn’t that the way of the Jedi? 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, it took us a while, but we got here! This chapter really took some coaxing to get out. I had plans for it, but somehow inspiration doesn’t always agree with the chosen storyline. Once again, sorry for the delay. Life has been sucking recently, but hopefully everything will just get easier from here. We’ve crossed one of the biggest hurdles, which is the important part. Now, one or two more chapters in this arc, and we’ll be moving on to our first interlude.
> 
> Anyway, I won’t way you down with too much author’s note. Head on over to my Tumblr to see a bit of the story why this chapter was so late if you like, and thank you all for your support.
> 
> Comments might be a bit messy (I got a new phone, so I might miss a couple of you guys. Hopefully not, but I apologize before hand if I do.)
> 
> Nightsdhade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): I know, we didn’t get to see a whole lot of the engagement in this chapter (it’s coming, I promise), but we’ll certainly be seeing the padawan and grandpadawan in the near future.
> 
> Jxjxjx (FF): Haha, I hope this was enough speed for you! What Eoin’s feelings are on this whole subject? Force only knows.
> 
> Imekh Melaff (FF): I’m sorry for not updating! School is horrible (Why, oh why did I let them convince me summer classes were a good idea?) and my writing has suffered near as much as your reading. Kaden and Eoin are both some of my favorite OC’s, though I couldn’t work either of them into this chapter. Obi-Wan seems like he’s getting exactly what he wanted, though, even if it means he has to go rescue the padawan once again.
> 
> hshh (Ao3): Thank you so much! Hopefully we’ll get to see a bit more of them than we have in this chapter (Don’t worry, we will). I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Well, that’s all, folks! See you (hopefully) in two weeks!


	10. Chapter Nine

Time was quick to pass.

Satine breathed a sigh of relief as the door to her office shut behind her. The combination of several long days and not enough sleep was getting to her, making her long for a few minutes of alone time. 

And she was about to get it.

It had come through much pain and toil, but she’d finally secured a deal with another neutral system that would allow them to begin rebuilding their agricultural market. Much of the food they consumed--especially in Sundari--had to be imported, due to the toxic desert. What had once been lush grasslands and forest was now barren, rendered useless by the many bombings.

Perhaps this would give them a chance to change that.

But that would have to come later. She’d secured finances, and the alliances. Now, it was time to wait, and rest.

When was the last time she had rested? Not since Stewjon, truly, and that was already four months ago. Four months since she’d seen, talked to,  _ kissed _ Obi-Wan.

That had probably been a mistake.

But had a mistake ever felt so right?

Her wrist comm beeped, reminding her that she had a meeting with her advisors and the various ministers of Mandalore to brief them on the final situation. The new deal would impact all sides of Mandalore, and she could only hope that their support would not begin to waver now that she had secured it.

A million things to address ran through her mind. She would have to talk to the minister of infrastructure about building temporary biodomes that would protect the people until they could return some sort of stability to the toxic air. That meant she needed to speak with the minister of finance about external budgeting issues, and if possible with the minister of education about moving forward with their plans to build an academy of agriculture. Doubtlessly the minister of artificial intelligence would be eager to insist upon even more droids to do the work that the people were very capable to perform theirselves. Oh, and she couldn’t forget to speak with the minister of security about what measures they would take to protect the fledgling colonies from Death Watch and other threats. Finally, she needed to speak to the Prime Minister on how they were going to protect the deal from the meddling of the Senate and how and when she would need to present it to the people. 

The longer she thought about it, the farther her coveted vacation time seemed to drift away, until it was a mere twinkle on the horizon. She would need at least a week to catch up with all her work, and another few days after that to pack and put into motion her final measures. Her vacation would have to be short--no more than a week, and that was being generous--and at least a day of that would be tied up in transit. 

She sighed. So much to do, and not nearly enough hours in the day to complete it all. That was what came with the job of rebuilding a system bent on destroying itself. Mandalore had made tremendous progress over the past decade and a half, but it still had a long way to go before it would all be sorted, as much due to the people as the system itself. Even now there was corruption in her own ranks, something that she was painfully aware of, yet could do next to nothing about.

Only time would tell what would come of it all.

When she made it to the throne room, where she was to meet with the ministers, she found that she still had fifteen minutes before they were to begin. Taking out her datapad, she began to scan the news, half hoping to find something about Obi-Wan in the news. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night he’d left, and had heard relatively little of him after he’d returned to the front lines. Relations between the Senate and Jedi Council was still tense, to hear Padmé tell it, and Palpatine was pushing for even more power over them than he already had. She’d never like the man on a personal level, but she was becoming increasingly wary of him on a political level as well. Something about him put her ill at ease, and she didn’t know why.

As usual, the news were filled with the run of the mill things that she saw on a daily basis. Some married senator had been caught in a torrid affair with an actress, the Senate was raising trade rates to attempt to fill their rapidly emptying coffers, a deadly bombing had injured over a dozen clones and their Jedi General…

She paused, taking a second look at the last article. The 212th. Where had she heard that before?

As the realization hit her, her heart seemed to stop within her chest. 

Obi-Wan. 

The 212th was Obi-Wan’s battalion.

_ Oh, Gods no. _

* * *

 

There were soft whispers, keeping him on the edge of consciousness. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and there was a weight on his chest, making it nearly impossible to breath. His skin was being eaten alive by millions of fire ants, though his left hand was blessedly numb. The Force… it was a distant mirage, but already he could feel the holes punctured in it, accompanied by the throbbing spots of pain.

His men. They were in trouble, they were injured. He could already feel the loss of others, but they would have to wait. He needed to help those still living.

He struggled to sit up, ignoring the searing pain that ripped through his chest. Somewhere in the distance, screeching alarms sounded, but they were hardly important to him now. Cody. Waxer. Boil. He instinctively knew that they were among the living. They always were. He needed to get to them, at the very least. He would take care of them, and they would take care of the others. 

His lungs felt as if they were on the edge of bursting, every breath he took sent flames through his chest. Smoke, too much smoke was choking him. It stung his eyes until they watered, scorching his windpipe every time he tried to inhale. His limbs were in a muddle, refusing to obey him, and the numbness in his left hand began to creep up his arm. The Force was fraught with distress, frothing angrily just out of reach. 

He tried to call out, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring. He thrashed against the bonds seeming to hold him, but they were relentless in their grip. Searing pain shot up his right arm, the feeling of skin and muscle being stipped away from bone sending him into an abyss of agony. 

Then, when he thought he was going to pass out from the unrelenting pain, everything stopped. The Force, the hurt,  _ everything _ . He was suddenly completely numb, as if his soul had disconnected from his body.

Panic rose swiftly, unbidden. Was he dying? He couldn’t die. He had things to do, people he had obligations to. Anakin wasn’t ready to be on his own. Ahsoka was struggling with balancing war and schoolwork. Cody was still having problems with his leg. Palpatine was trying to gain even more ill-deserved power, especially over the Jedi. The youngling class was still waiting for him to finish the Adventures of Jizo Picoult, Spacer Extraordinaire. Coen, the quiet youngling who’d asked to be taken as his apprentice after the war. Not to mention the holozines and fan pages dedicated to his name. 

And his family. He’d promised them, promised  _ her _ that he would come back. He had a feeling that none of them would consider his returning as a corpse a fulfillment of that promise. 

A disturbing thought occurred to him. What if he wasn’t dying, but only in a very deep coma? What if his vitals dropped so low that the healers  _ thought _ he was dead? What would they do with him then? In general, Jedi were cremated--only a specific few were given the honor of having their remains buried in the vault, and he was hardly at that status. If they cremated him before he was truly dead, would he feel the burn? Or in the hypothetical scenario that he was buried--would he be stuck in a tiny casket to waste away? Force forbid they send him back to his family to be put to rest on Yan. He’d gone to see his father’s site  once after the funeral, and there was nothing left except the engraving of his name on the wall of remembrance. Surely being burned or suffocated to death was better than being decimated slowly by toxic fumes. 

If it ever got to that point, he would only hope that his death was swift and painless. 

The numbness was slowly accompanied by an overwhelming sense of drowsiness. He struggled for a moment, unwilling to let go of the last shred of consciousness that he had. Eventually, though, he did, giving in to the warm embrace of sleep.

* * *

 

Anakin watched helplessly as the healers rushed to sedate his former master, thrashing against his bonds. It was going on the fourth day since he’d been delivered to the temple after that horrible mission. To hear Cody tell it, Obi-Wan had been the closest to the blast, and had received the worst of the blow as he’d used the Force to shield the clone team and hostages he’d had with him. Because of it, all of the clones had survived, as well as the twelve and fifteen year old girls he’d rescued from the citadel earlier.

And here he was, fighting for his life.

He’d received several burns across his neck and back, his hair singed off in several places. The healers had pulled out nearly forty shards of metal and glass from his skin, and his left arm had been broken in no less than twelve places. When they’d brought him in, he’d been barely conscious, using the Force to sustain the more heavily injure clones. It hadn’t been until they injected him with force inhibitors that he’d finally collapsed, allowing them to work on him.

The extensiveness of his injuries stated the need for a bacta tank, but the healers were tentative of placing him in one until his vitals were stable. As long as he continued to fluctuate like this, they wanted to keep a close eye on him in case they needed to operate. 

_ Force, don’t let them have to operate _ .

The meds must have kicked in, for Obi-Wan slowly began to calm down. His breathing was still ragged and muscles twitching sporadically, but he could sense him beginning to drift off. It was astonishing how someone so close to the brink of death could still be fighting so valiantly to resist it. If they were to ask him, Obi-Wan was closer to dying from a heart attack than his injuries.

Kriff, he shouldn’t be thinking about that.

_ But what if he does die? Where would that leave you? _

He shuddered at the thought. Somehow, Obi-Wan dying was even worse than him leaving the order. Who would cover for him when he got in trouble with the council? Who would teach Ahsoka political science and all the other academic stuff he’d never taken the time to learn? Who would he be the perfect Jedi for everyone to look up to? Who would take creche duty whenever they were on Coruscant? Who would teach him the right way to grow a beard in his old age? Who would be embarrassed and annoyed by Quinlan Vos on their drinking nights? Who would teach meditation to the younglings and insist that flying was for droids? Who would have a bad feeling about every mission they went on and remind him afterwards that the time on Cato Neimoidia didn’t count?

Kriff. He had never realized how many trivial things he needed Obi-Wan for.

“Ani?”

He looked up quickly, meeting Padmé’s concerned gaze. “Hey, Angel. What are you doing here?”

She smiled softly, raising a container of fruit. Shuura, most likely. “My parents sent these for you, and I thought I would bring them by while I had a break.” Sighing lowly, she turned her attention to Obi-Wan. “He’s looking better.”

Better must have been in comparison with when he’d first arrived back on Coruscant, for he looked  _ awful _ . “His body keeps rejecting the antibiotics. They’ve got a poodoo ton of Force suppressants in him now to keep him sedated, but they also weaken him the longer they’re in his system, so they have to keep filtering them all out every couple hours, but then he just begins to go nuts and they have to sedate him all over again.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Master Che says the only reason why he’s still alive is because he’s relying on the Force to sustain him and his men. One of the Shinies who’d been on the mission was nearly just as badly injured as he was, and Obi-Wan was still using the Force to keep him alive after he’d passed out from exhaustion and pain. It’s incredible, really.”

“Will he survive, do you think?”

Anakin swallowed. “I’m sure he will. He always has before.”

He could feel the sympathy radiating off of her, her eyes sad. “I talked to Satine today. She’s distraught about the whole situation, but can’t leave Mandalore for nearly another week. She said something about a sister coming today, though I’m not sure who she is.”

_ Shavit. _ He’d forgotten all about Obi-Wan’s family. “His sister, Adira. Blast, I should have commed them.”

“Don’t, Anakin.” Her voice was gentle, but there was still a measure of steel underlying it as she strode across the room to hug him. “You’ve done everything you could this last week. No one expected you to do anything more.”

He wanted to argue with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Damn it all, he was so tired, and it just felt so good to be back in his wife’s arms. He hadn’t really seen her since he’d gotten the dreadful call. He’d been at her apartment at the time, basking in the afterglow of third round of lovemaking that night, cut off to the rest of the world and completely unaware of what was happening to his Master. Later, he’d wondered if it had been a costly moment of selfishness, if Obi-Wan had tried to reach him. 

Would he ever know?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for those who haven’t seen my Tumblr… I’m sorry, but my alternating week schedule is going on pause until I can get some amount of stability back in my life. I will still be posting as often as I can, but I can’t hold myself to any specific day. Thank you for all your support, even though I have put you guys off time and time again.
> 
> Imekh Melaff (FF): Thank you so much! I had to give you guys something if I was going to make you wait for so long, didn’t I?
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): Adia is really something, isn’t she?
> 
> Well, love you all! Don’t forget to leave your thoughts, and I’ll see you next time!
> 
> P.S. WHO ELSE IS KRIFFING EXCITING FOR THE CLONE WARS COMING BACK? THE SIEGE OF MANDALORE, EVERYONE! I’M SCREAMING!


	11. Chapter Ten

Satine had been a moment away from going to Coruscant when she got the message from Adira.

_ Could you please go and comfort mama? Ben is in grave danger and I would not want her to be alone if the news comes.  _

If. It was a horrifying thought, truly, that he was so close to death. She’d known from the beginning that Obi-Wan’s injuries had been extremely severe, but to hear it in this way…

_ Please, Force, let him live _ .

It had already been a week and a half since the news had reached her of the bombing, and the utter lack of stir about it was unsettling. The holonet speculated and surmised, but the Jedi were doing their best to keep things quiet, as was their way. Adira had little to say about his condition except that his lungs had already collapsed twice, prohibiting them from placing him in Bacta. Surgery to repair some of his internal injuries had been attempted, but rapidly aborted after he’d lost too much blood. The healers were now relying on the Force to heal him, whatever that meant.

She balled her hands into a fist. It was ridiculous, really. What he needed was medical treatment, not a bunch of religious freaks using their magical powers to heal him. If it was so simple, why wasn’t he already healed? Why was he so close to death if all they needed to do was sprinkle him with a bit of fairy dust?

Angrily, she dashed away the tears that had rapidly begun to form in her eyes. It was unfair, she knew, to blame the healers. She knew the capabilities of the Force, had even been a recipient of it’s healing properties a couple times during that mission. She knew that there was only so much that medicine could do. Everything had limits, even the years of one’s life.

But why did it have to be now?

Satine hated this, this foreboding sense of dread. She was a woman of certainty, of action. She never attempted something if she did not believe she could succeed, and believed in very little. Waiting, whether it be for good or bad, was a bitter trial to her, one she tried to avoid as much as possible.

Perhaps that was why she had avoided love so much. From a young age, her life had been filled with pain and a fear of the unknown. For as long as she could remember, the clans of Mandalore had fought in an unending war for dominance. Her father, Adonai, had done his best to bring the feuding clans to peace, but had avoided the more radical principles that she had adopted in favor of a more gentle, slow approach. He had wanted to slowly reform Mandalore, had dreams of a day in the future when the clans could live in unity with one another.

Her mother and sister had called him a fool, weak,  _ dar’manda _ . They glorified in the warrior culture, unable to understand why he’d want change. His arguments that the warrior ways of Mandalore should be reserved only for  _ aruettise _ fell on deaf ears, his dreams unrealized.

Satine had realized them. She’d had the same dream that he’d had, and had looked forward to the day when everyone else would see it as well.

Then, Adonai Kryze had been killed in a bombing, and she’d known that his subtle measures would likely never work on Mandalore. She’d have to make a stand if she ever wanted anyone to take her seriously.

And she had. She’d stood up to the clans of Mandalore, and most of them had listened. Now, here she was, over fifteen years later, Duchess of Mandalore. Looked up to by several, known by many, and in love with one.

One who lay dying, all too far away.

She started when her comm unit beeped, a Stewjonian code blinking expectantly.

Oh, Gods, no. 

It took her a moment to gain the courage to answer it, but when she did, relief flooded through her to see Eoin’s face.

A relief that was short lived.

“Satine…” He swallowed hard, glancing off camera briefly. “I just thought you should know I’m on Coruscant with Adira and Kaden.”

She could feel her heart sinking within her. “Obi…”

“He’s alive, for now.”

“For now?”

“Satine…” His tone was soft, as if he didn’t want to scare her. “Look, I need you to promise not to tell Adira or Lady Kiyo anything that I say to you.”

“What…”

“His vitals are falling, fast. They’ve already had to revive him twice today.” Eoin ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “Republic law states that life support may only be provided for 24 hours after the patient has been first revived. Unless, of course, the family takes responsibility for it financially.”

So what was the problem? As far as she knew, the Kiyo’s were fairly wealthy. “And they’re not able to?”

He sighed. “The Kiyo’s are very well able to do that for Ben Kiyo, their son. Obi-Wan Kenobi, however…”

“They won’t treat him because of a name change?” she asked, incredulous. What sort of nonsense was that?

“Jedi not only change their name, but renounce their family connections. Lady Adia has no legal connection to him, according to Republic law.”

“But… I’ve seen his records, on Stewjon. Surely if he is able to rule, then he…”

“He is able to rule, but only as Ben Kiyo, which is what he is listed under for the Stewjonian records.” She could see the dark circles under his eyes, knew that he had likely spent a good portion of his time doing the research to save the brother of the woman he loved. “Currently, he is being treated as Obi-Wan Kenobi, under the protection of the Jedi. Legally, they aren’t allowed to accept compensation from outside sources to pay for treatment for one of their own, and neither are they able to provide treatment beyond Republic law, as they are not an individual. Lady Kiyo is allowed to have him transferred to a different facility to have him be treated as Ben Kiyo, but he would be completely without life support during the transfer, which could take several hours.”

“He wouldn’t make it.” She exhaled slowly, feeling as though she were being crushed under an unbearable weight. “Is there any way to accelerate the transfer process? Cannot they begin it while he is still at the temple?”

Eoin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Satine. I’ve been looking for hours, but there's nothing. The Republic has so much red tape, on both ends. We could likely get him transferred out of the Jedi’s system with little issue, but getting any medcenter to process the paperwork in time would be a nightmare, with all of the stops the Republic has inserted.I’ve gotten times of an excess of twelve hours just for them to register a patient, what with the war and all.”

She gaped in disbelief. “Twelve hours? That’s absolutely ridiculous!”

“It’s the way the system works. Universal priority, they call it.” Eoin scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Backwards, is what I call it. Back home, we wouldn’t have had this mess. Treatment first, questions later. Especially when the patient’s life is on the line.”

“Precisely.” She shook her head. “Gods, I’m so glad Mandalore is neutral. I remember when the Senator of Nya’arn was nearly killed in an assassination attempt, they ended up having to take her to the CNS’s Coruscant medcenter because the Republica wouldn’t treat her due to her recent marriage. The woman had blood gushing out of her arm, and they wouldn’t do anything because the name they had listed in the system was different from the one on her identification chip.”

“The CNS?”

“The Council of Neutral Systems.”

His gaze searched hers. “And they just treated her? Even though she was a member of the Republic?”

“Well, no, but she was friends with one of our ambassadors, and he was able to vouch for her.”

“And that’s it? She could receive treatment just like that?”

“Of course.” She bristled, drawing herself up. “Republic law made it difficult for anyone who was not a citizen to receive treatment, so we…”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Never mind all of that. The only thing I want to know is will it be possible for Ben to be treated, if you vouched for him?”

She froze. “I… I suppose he could.” She searched her mind for any reason that she could be missing, and found none. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. We could probably even get it approved for a Jedi healer to continue looking after him, due to the fact that they’re authorized to work on patients being held in non-Republic facilities, something I assume they wouldn’t allow them to do if he was transferred out of Jedi authority instead of just to another facility.”

“Of course, of course. And you’re sure there won’t be any difficulty?”

“Besides having my face plastered across every gossip holozine for aiding Jedi when I’ve repeatedly refused Jedi assistance on Mandalore? No, not that I can think of.” She inhaled deeply, trying to calm the shaking of her hands. “I’ll speak to the director personally and make sure there will be no issues.”

He nodded. “I suppose I’ll let you go then.”

She sighed, rising. “I’m supposed to be leaving for Stewjon within the hour, as it is. You’ll tell Adira I said hello?”

“Of course.” He smiled softly. “Stay strong, love. He’ll come out all right.”

All the doubts that had shortly been put to rest rose again, but she forced a smile anyway. “I can only hope that will be true.”

* * *

 

“How are you doing this fine morning, cousin?”

Obi-Wan grunted, struggling to sit up. Immediately, Adira jumped to his aid, but he flinched away from her touch. It had only been a mere twenty-four hours since he’d woken from his week-long coma and only eight since his last surgery, but it still rankled that he needed help to do the barest of movements. He wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t grateful that his sister and cousin had made the journey to be with him, but he did wish that they didn’t have to see him like this.

It was damned embarrassing.

Kaden raised an eyebrow, crossing the room as imperiously as any third-in-line lordling would when facing his dying benefactor. “Honestly, Ben? We were certain you wouldn’t make it through the night, and yet here you are. You would honestly cheat your fair cousin out of everything that could have rightfully been his?”

“Shut up.” With a hefty sigh, he gave up on sitting up, reconciling himself to the idea of resting on an inordinate amount of pillows. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your throne soon enough, just not now.”

“It’s not the throne I be wanting, though that would be a nice touch.” Pulling up a chair, Kaden offered him a genuine, if small, smile. “But seriously. How are you feeling today?”

“Probably how that Zabrak felt when I sliced him through the middle.” Despite the fact that they’d pumped as many painkillers into his system as was legally allowed, there was nothing they could do to fill the gaping abyss where the Force should have been. “They’re keeping me on suppressants until they’re sure my abdomen is healing properly.”

Adira patted his shoulder sympathetically. “He doesn’t like it.”

“Bloosy nuisance.”

Kaden grinned. “Well, at least we can be consoled that this bit o’ trauma left your vocabulary intact. What would your dear mummy think to hear you using such foul language, Benny boy?”

His half-hearted laugh sent him into a painful hacking fit as the need to breath and the seven cracked ribs fought for dominance. The ribs one, leaving him wheezing painfully for breath, only vaguely aware of Adira calling for the healers and medics. Someone--he couldn’t have said who--strapped an oxygen mask over his face while a pinch in his already brutalized arm told him that they were injecting something else into his bloodstream. Whether it was more painkillers or a sedative didn’t even matter at this point. As long as it numbed him to everything happening.

How long it was before his muscles began to relax and the burning pain waned, he had no idea. His vision slowly cleared, the roaring in his ears quieted, and he became aware of his surroundings again.

Both his sister and cousin were fast asleep, Adira gripping his good hand tightly, while Kaden slumped in a chair at the now dark window.Even from where he lay, Obi-Wan could see the temple spires in the distance, so near, yet so far.

Home.

Or was it?

Between his return from Stewjon and that fateful mission, he’d only spent a matter of hours in the temple, and even less in his actual quarters. Now that he had time to think about it--plenty of time, actually--he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually just been at the temple since the war had begun. If one didn’t count the time spent in the halls of healing, his bed, or the Council chambers, the time likely tallied to a couple weeks, if that much. Though he’d been used to seemingly constant missions as Qui-Gon’s padawan, it was still mind boggling to think that he so little time in the place he called home.

“Obi-Wan. Heard you were better, I did.”

He turned abruptly at the voice he knew better than his own, attempting to smile at the wizened Jedi Master. Yoda hobbled in, leaning heavily on his prized gimer stick. Sighing, he shook his head in disappointment.

“Much exaggerated, the reports on your health are,” the ancient Master rasped in the queer way of his, ears drooping slightly. “Rest and recover, you must. Rush it, one cannot. Injure yourself more, you will.”

If it hadn’t been for the damned mask, he would have given a suitable answer to the Master, but as it was, all he could preform was a hint of a nod.

Yoda seemed unperturbed by his silence, eyes going from him, to Kaden, to his sister, and he smiled. “Your family, this is, hmm? Resemble you, they do.”

Did they? He’d never really paid attention. Now that he thought about it, however, he could see the similarities. They had the same hair, the same eyes. Adira had the fine, delicate figure of his mother, but he and Kaden both had the more athletic build of their fathers. 

“Speak not only of appearances,I do.” Yoda’s tone was rebuking, as if he could see Obi-Wan’s thoughts. He likely could. “Have your heart, they do. Selfless, they are.”

Master Yoda thought  _ he  _ was selfless? Perhaps the Master didn’t know as much as he thought. 

“Thought you would come back, no one did. Turn in your resignation, we expected you to. Surprised, we were not, when saved young Skywalker. Surprised, we were, when staid, you did.”

They’d thought he was going to stay on Stewjon? That was news to him. Had they really had such low expectations, that they thought he would give in to his attachments and abandon them without so much as a by your leave?

“An exceptional Jedi, you are, Obi-Wan. Master your emotions, you have. Allow them to control you, you do not.”  The sadness in Yoda’s eyes spoke of one who’d seen too many years, decades, centuries. “Unhappy, we will be, when leave us, you do.”

Before he could think too much about what the Master was saying, one of the healers that had been assigned to him entered the room to check his vitals and adjust his medicine. Master Yoda and the healer began to converse over his health and treatment, but whatever it was flew over his head. All at once he was drowsy, his eyelids drooping, breathing beginning to slow. Maybe, when he woke, he would take the time to think about what Yoda had been trying to say.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was a bit longer than usual. Once again, I ‘m really sorry about the long wait, but I hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): Lol, I will.
> 
> Mystical_Firefly_Avenger (Ao3): Thank you so much, I’m glad you enjoyed!
> 
> Jess (Ao3): Thank you! I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really loved writing Kaden and was so happy to bring him back again in this chapter!
> 
> Thank you guys for all the support, it really means a lot to me. Also, check out my Tumblr, as I’ve made a (kinda) big announcement on there. Love you all, and hope to see you again soon!


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan drops the bomb

It had been nearly a month since Obi-Wan’s accident, and Satine was waist deep in the agricultural rehabilitation project. They’d only just secured preliminary funding to start a small test site about a half day’s ride from Sundari, and she had taken it upon herself to sort through potential dwellers’ applications.

Halfway through, and she only had two promising prospects.

Weary of the tedious work, she left her office and went to the break room to get some refreshment. A few dozen people milled around the room, chatting with each other and helping themselves to the various refreshments laid out for their enjoyment. A large holodisplay kept them up to date on the news across the galaxy, something that was necessary in the world of politics.

She half listened to the news anchor drone on about some bill or another that was going through the senate, pouring herself a cup of tea and fixing herself a sandwich made with spiced churri meat.

“...it is expected that the Chancellor will support the bill.” There was a pause as the anchor shuffled through the papers on her desk. “Up next: What is the new evidence that has been brought forth about the Dre vs. Ho’shan case, and is there actually some truth to the rumors that Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi leaving the Order? We’ll find out, after the break.”

The entire room had gone silent, and she even detected a few glances turned in her direction. There were few Mandalorians--especially those in the political ranks--who hadn’t heard of Obi-Wan Kenobi or his infamous connection with the system. For force sakes, there was a plaque dedicated to him and Qui-Gon in one of the palace gardens. 

Though the Jedi were traditionally looked upon as enemies by the Mandalorian people, the prejudice wasn’t nearly as strong now, and there was even great interest in the mystical Force users’ role in the war, as it was unheard of for the Jedi as a whole to be fighting in a war that the Mando’s were not.

For two whole minutes, as commercials played, there was a subdued, curious tension strung over the room like the cloth of a drum. No one dared change the channel or leave the room, all waiting with baited breath until the news anchor reappeared. Someone had the presence of mind to turn up the volume and turn on closed captions, something Satine was grateful for. 

“Welcome back to Galactic Rei Publicae News, I’m Di-ra Kein. The galaxy has been abuzz after Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was seen in a private spaceport in civilian wear with an unidentified man and boarding what looks to be a personal star yacht. We’ve yet to hear any news from either Master Kenobi or the Jedi council, but we do have reporter Je Scoti, well known for his interviews with Jedi such as Master Kenobi; and psychiatrist Mari Tucals, renowned writer and author of the bestselling book  _ To See a Jedi _ , with us today. Je, Mari, it’s good to have you with us.”

Satine recognized both of them. She’d met Je Scoti at the beginning of both of their careers, and had actually been the one to help him get an interview with Senator Amidala shortly after the Trade Federation’s invasion. He’d also interviewed Obi-Wan at the time, though he hadn’t become famous for it until the beginning of the war. Mari Tucals wasn’t someone she knew personally, but she had read her book and enjoyed it. Written shortly after the battle of Geonosis and Obi-Wan’s sudden rise to fame, the woman had devoted an entire chapter to chronicle the Jedi’s feelings on the subject.

“So first, I’d like to ask the question that I’m sure everyone wants to hear. Do you think these rumors about Master Kenobi leaving the order are true, and why? Ms Tucals, please.”

The diminutive, feline like woman smiled in the way that all good people did when on galactic broadcasts. “Thank you, Di-Ra. Actually, I believe that there might be some truth to these rumors. When I was researching about the Jedi, I was surprised at how little information there was about them. What they do in their off time is virtually unknown, and few people, reporters and paparazzi alike, have managed to get anything more than a blurry picture of Jedi out of uniform. For Master Kenobi to be out so publicly during the height of his popularity without any care at all? Its suspicious, to say the least.”

“I agree, Mari.” Scoti’s piercing silver eyes were just as cold looking over the holo as they were in person. “The fact that the Jedi have yet to comment on the situation is also telling. You’ll remember that they did this before, several months back when Master Kenobi disappeared for over a month. There is certainly more than what meets the eye.”

The anchor nodded. “And what do you think it will mean for the future of the Republic if the rumors turn out to be true?”

He shrugged. “That’s a hard call to make. Master Kenobi has played a very integral part in this war, both on the front lines and with the diplomatic side of things. The man is a brilliant strategist, and even more brilliant negotiator. He’s also in command of a tenth of the Republic’s army, which is nothing to sniff at. If he was to  resign from the order, and thus from the army, I’m sure that the Jedi would be hard pressed to find someone else with his prowess to take over the position.”

“It would also be a great hit to the morale of the Republic,” Tucals pointed out. “People across the galaxy look up to him, see him as a sign of hope for the future. For him to leave… some might think that he’s given up hope, and that is not the feeling that we need at such a bleak time. We already saw the unease in the Senate when he took off for a month; imagine what might happen if he was to leave completely?”

Di-Ra Kein smirked. “You’re forgetting that his Jedi label has also been one of the only things keeping his fanbase at bay. Can you think of what a suddenly single and eligible Obi-Wan Kenobi would do the female population?”

Both Mari Tucals and a few of the women in the break room snickered, reminding Satine that she was hardly the only one who found Obi-Wan attractive. Goodness, if he left the order, there would be no doubt that there would be an uprising among women across the galaxy to be the first to land the former Jedi.

And she would be right there with them.

_ If _ he left the order, that was. 

Which there was no guarantee of. 

After all, they were only rumors.

Something chimed, and the news anchor swore softly when someone on the set told her something. When she finally turned back to the holo, looking more than a little lost. “Well, I think we’ll see whether or not your prophecies will be true, Mari, Je. Apparently, the Senate Chamber has just received a notice outlining Obi-Wan Kenobi’s official resignation from the Grand Army of the Republic, upon the premise that he is no longer a member of the Jedi Order.”

A collective gasp when up across the break room, and Satine suddenly realized that she couldn’t do this. Fighting back the tears--she had no idea why she felt the sudden urge to cry, truly--she began making her way back to the door, desperate to once again be alone in her office. They barely noticed her, all eyes glued to the broadcast. 

Finally, finally, she made it to her office, only moments before she collapsed into her chair and started to sob uncontrollably. She hadn’t been near ready for the rush of emotions that she felt, the enormity of them seeming to press her down. It seemed as if everything that she’d ever felt about Obi-Wan Kenobi--all the anger, resentment, hope, despair, love--was suddenly coming back to her, overwhelming her until she wasn’t sure what to feel.

“Well, if I had known this was the welcome I would get, I might have thought twice about coming.”

The ungodly shriek that made its way out from her lips nearly frightened her more than the Jedi--former Jedi--who seemed to have materialized from the corner of her office. It took her a full fifteen seconds to realize that he was not some figment of her imagination, conjured up by her breakdown, and was actually the real thing, looking dutifully sheepish.

And then, before she could stop it, the words came pouring out.

* * *

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi, former Jedi and current ruler of Stewjon, dodged a dart aimed directly at his head. Satine had quickly moved from her angry diatribe to the prettily feathered hand-darts in a small jar on her desk, still seeming intent on having him as her target.

For a woman who eschewed violence, she certainly had a deadly aim.

He’d ducked two more darts and used the Force to divert a third by the time that she seemed to realized that having him as a new dartboard was not going to happen. The fifth and final dart landed somewhere halfway between them, fired in a last, half-hearted attempt before she slowly crumpled and gave in to the tears.

For almost a full minute, he stayed where he was, unsure of whether or not he should comfort her. However, when it became apparent that the tears weren’t going to stop anytime soon, he cautiously approached her, silently wrapping his arms around her.

She succumbed to his hold without protest, allowing him to bundle her into his arms carefully. It was hardly the first time a woman had taken refuge in his arms during a time of trouble, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, considering he was going to live in a house full of women. 

This detour to Mandalore before going to Stewjon had not been apart of his plans when he and Eoin had been preparing to leave Coruscant, but something had made him put the coordinates to Sundari in. Maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t yet ready to face the fact that he’d left the Jedi for good, or maybe it was because he still didn’t have a solid reason as to why he’d done so. He wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t dreading the questions that his family would ask, or what the media would say about him. He wasn’t completely at peace with his decision yet--that would take time. 

There was still the voice inside of him that said he’d betrayed the Republic, his men, and the only family he’d ever known; they were thoughts born of years of dedication to duty, and in a way they were right.

But that would have still been true if he had stayed among the ranks.

Being injured--and as severely as he had been--had been an eye opening experience. Though he’d been hailed as a hero, by Jedi and citizens alike, he’d known the truth. His performance had fallen over the months, brought about by a mix of homesickness--of all the bloody things--and a rapidly mounting dissatisfaction with the politics of war.

Before stepping into the political arena himself, he’d never taken too much consideration with politicians or their field. He’d been content to dislike the vast majority of them and hope that the people would finally open their eyes and elect some not corrupt advocates for a change. Like many things, he’d seen the world of politics in black and white, with little to no gray area.

But that was before.

Arriving back on the front lines had reminded him of a different side of the war, a side that he didn’t like and didn’t care to be apart of. Hundreds, if not thousands of people were dying everyday because some overpowered people were upset at each other. He remembered some of the smaller wars he had seen during his padawan and knighthood years, how entire systems would be torn apart because no one could figure out whose nerf it was or because one’s son didn’t want to marry another’s daughter. Trivial matters lead to leaders throwing their weight around and dragging all of their allies with them.

The more he thought about it, the more appealing neutrality seemed. His allegiance would always be to the Republic, to Democracy; that didn’t mean he would blindly fight for something he didn’t even believe in. The Jedi didn’t fight to avenge the politicians, or because the Senate told them to. They fought only to ensure a better tomorrow for all the innocents who were caught up in the mix.

And he would do the same. He was no longer of use on the front lines, but he could still make a difference for his own people, and maybe even the galaxy.

For now, though, he planned to enjoy his short reprieve. Work would come soon enough, and he could concentrate on that when it did, but he would use the moment to make sense of what his decisions would mean for him. And if that meant cuddling a Duchess to see if she felt right in his arms, he would do that.

Gently, Obi-Wan smoothed her hair and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, pulling her closer. “I told you I’d come back.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello, all! I know this chapter took a long time for me to put out, and I’m truly sorry about it. Just so you know, I didn’t get any more pleasure from delaying this update than you did. But now it's here, and I hope you enjoyed it! As some of you might know, I’ve already started on the second book in this series, and we’ll probably have one more chapter before we get to that one! I can’t wait!
> 
> Thank you for all of the kudos/follow/favorites/subscribes/bookmarks that have been left on here, I appreciate it so much! You guys are all great, and I feel so lucky to have you with me on this!
> 
> Nightshade_sydneylover150 (Ao3): I don’t know! But don’t worry, he’s going to get a bit of fluff and happiness in his life now.
> 
> Imekh Melaff (FF): Thank you so much for your review! I did miss you the last chapter, but I’m so glad to see you back! I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> For all of you who don’t follow me, either on here or on Tumblr, Obitine Week was a few weeks ago, and I was happy to be a part of it! If you’re looking for some more Obitine readings, you can go check my story out, and don’t forget the other wonderful authors who took part!
> 
> Until next time… love you all!


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